Service With a Smile
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2011 by Harvey Marcus

Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Mr. Marcus's wife Harriett arranges for a young woman to perform a ministry (service) to their household, especially because of her new business trips. The story builds from simple voyeurism to fulfilled lust over a series of chapters.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Blackmail   Humor   Cheating   Group Sex   Harem   Hispanic Female   First   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Cream Pie   Voyeurism   Big Breasts   Slow   School  

Mr. Marcus's wife, Harriett, arranged for a local girl, Inga, to perform a ministry once a week while she's away. After two visits, Mr. Marcus has kept his promise of keeping his hands off the pert young woman, but she's been hands-on him, in the shower. With the pantry project incomplete, she's scheduled to make a return visit the next day, just before Mr. Marcus makes a mandatory visit to her mother, the psychotherapist.

Will Mr. Marcus be able to maintain his composure and willpower around a young woman who struts around in her undies? And, after manipulating his cock to orgasm, what will Inga's next move be? These moves are more complicated than chess, although Inga is a nice piece.

Author's note: To best understand this chapter, you should have previously read "Paging Doctor Marcus - Second Episode." "First Episode" occurs earlier in time, and that chapter of Harvey Marcus's sexcapades has not yet been posted for your pleasure.]

I paced the living room, waiting for Inga. I'd completed reassembling the pantry, so Inga's time during this visit could be spent on other things, intimate things. I didn't expect she'd agree to have sex, and I was still covered by my promise, actually her mother's threat, to keep my hands off. Maybe a repeat of our shared shower?

For the twentieth time, I peeked out the front door. My across the street neighbor, Joy Cocksworth, was just pulling into her driveway. She still owed me for keeping her husband's enormous dick out of her daughters' pussies. [NOTE: See Dots and Dashes of Color 8] To be precise, I promised I'd keep the whole thing out. Fortunately, my daughter Annie's invention had allowed him to apply only six inches to his daughters. I was picking nits, to be sure, but Joy's promise for a voluntary roll in the sack motivated my half-truth about her husband's half-dick penetrations.

I stepped across my threshold, shouted a greeting and waved. She looked at me, jerked her head away and strutted into her house. The display of contempt was quite obvious. Had she learned the truth? We'd have to have a conversation, one of these days. I scanned the street. Where was Inga?

The phone rang. I slammed the door and bobbled the receiver from the cradle. "Hello?"

"Hi. Mr. Marcus, this is Inga."

Was she all right? "Where are you?"

"I won't be coming over today. I hope you'll be able to put the pantry together yourself." A hint of trauma in her speech?

"It'll be a tough job, but I guess I'll have to do it." Might as well make her feel as guilty as possible. "Is anything wrong?"

"Dada grounded me for the rest of the week."

"You're a good girl. What did you do to deserve that kind of punishment?" Maybe she wasn't that good, although I thought she was fantastic.

"You know how your, uh, your plumbing got all stiff when we were in the shower?"

"Uh huh." How could I forget the hand job she'd provided? It had taken all of my willpower not to turn around, fondle her breasts, lift her up by her buttocks, grind her pussy against my -. Shit! Did she tell her mother about that? I'm really going to get both barrels when I meet her mother later today.

"Well, last night after I took my shower, I waited until Dada came down the hallway. Naked, like usual. I walked over and asked him for a hug."

Hugging Inga, in the nude? Damn, that must have been one hot encounter. "You did?" His dick probably lifted like mine was, and I was hearing the story second hand.

"Uh huh. And do you know what? His plumbing stayed all small and soft. Not like yours."

Damn. A man holds a cute body like Inga's and doesn't get aroused? Even if she's his daughter, how do you prevent it? I hadn't. "That's strange. So what did you do?"

"I asked him if he thought I was pretty. And he stroked my face and said 'You sure are, darling."

That didn't sound so bad. Odd, but not bad. "None of this sounds punishable."

"But I didn't stop there. I slid my hand from his hip and wrapped my fingers around his plumbing. You know, like I did with yours."

"You didn't!" My dick was pretty much erect, as my mind simulated Inga's fingertips.

"Uh huh. And even then, it stayed soft. Like it was dead or something. You were all stiff even before I touched you. My dad's plumbing must be broken."

I thought her assessment was correct. Poor Dr. Crumholtz. "So what happened?"

"He slapped my hand away and shouted, 'Don't you ever do that again!' Then he grounded me and sent me to my room. I don't think he told Mama, 'cause she didn't come after me with one of her lectures."

"I'm sorry if I was the cause," I said.

"It's not your fault. I'm just trying to figure things out. Between men and women, you know? Norma tells me stuff, but I don't want to just take her word. Maybe she's got it wrong. Besides, this time I did something before her."

I heard giggling in the background. Inga wasn't alone. Was someone there with her? Who gets visitors during grounding? "Is Norma there with you?"

"Uh huh. She said she'd never have the nerve to touch her father's plumbing, even though she's touched others."

Maybe this whole story was fabricated, and Inga never touched her old man's penis. Maybe this was a way to one-up Norma. So Norma touches other men's pricks, hmm? Maybe I should invite Norma over? Nah, that would just piss off Inga, and she blabs everything to her folks. Who know how she might react? Hmm. Maybe that's just the ticket -.

There was some hushed conversation on the other end before Inga spoke. "Are you going to see Mama this afternoon?"

"Yes, today's my appointment." Inga needs to know that I partially blame her. "I'm not happy about it at all. The only reason I'm stuck is because you tattled on me -"

"I told the truth, just like Mama taught me."

"Well, now she thinks I have a breast fetish."

"What's that?" Inga asked.

"She thinks I have a preference for women with large tits."

More giggling. Was her girlfriend on the same phone or an extension? "Norma has big tits. Lots bigger than mine. But you got all stiff seeing me naked. So Mama's wrong?"

"Yes, she is, and you were too, if you believed that lie. Sometimes things aren't what they seem. You could have asked me before ratting me out."

More hushed conversation, then "What time is your appointment?"

"Four-thirty. Why?" I asked.

"Nothing. No reason. So, I'll come over next week, right?" Inga was ending this call.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Bye." More giggles.

What were those two scheming?

I parked easily behind the long irregularly shaped medical building at the end of a strip-mall. It was past most doctors' regular office hours - four-thirty. A twisty passage with medical suites on both sides eventually led me the offices of Dr. Stephanie Crumholtz.

The waiting room with a mere three chairs, not much bigger than my eat-in kitchen area, was empty.

"Hello?" I called out.

Dr. Crumholtz trudged out, looking like she'd been burdened with serial killers and other misfits all day. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes were at half-mast and dark. "Oh, its you. Come in." She led me to a small room with just two chairs. One painting, a beach with crystal clear water, adorned the right wall. The left wall had a floor to ceiling drape. Small shelves stuck out from the fancier chair on both sides. One shelf held a telephone, another a leather-covered notepad. I sat in the plainer, yet comfortable guest seat.

I folded my hands in my lap. Dr. Crumholtz sat down, almost collapsing. She crossed her legs under a long floral skirt, exposing nothing. "You have no idea the day I've had." She took a sip from a mug held by a metal cup holder jutting out from the side of her chair. "So, let's down to it, shall we?"

I nodded.

"How long have you been suffering from a breast fetish?" she asked.

I was about to speak but her phone buzzed. "Hold that thought." She picked up the receiver. "Dr. Crumholtz. Oh, hello Mrs. Arousa. What can I - " Dr. Crumholtz's eyes widened. "She does? That's marvelous. What? Right now?" She glanced at me. "Well, I'm with someone." I got a look that said 'If you weren't here, I could handle a more important patient.' "I guess I could fit her in. Tell her to come over right away. No, thank you." Dr. Crumholtz hung up. "That was the mother of Inga's closest friend, Norma."

Something fishy was happening. Inga had confirmed the time of my visit while Norma was listening in. Now her mother calls? "Yes?"

"Norma has been displaying disruptive, even dangerous, behavior. I've told Inga she can't see Norma any more, until she gets help."

I was tempted to rat Inga out, since they'd been together on our phone call. Maybe this info would be future leverage on Inga. "Really? A disruptive influence? How so?"

"That's really none of your business." She straightened up. "She'll be here soon, at which time I will have to leave you alone. That won't be a problem, will it?"

Dr. Crumholtz had me over a barrel. If I didn't cooperate, she'd tell Harriett about my porn stash, and then all hell would break loose. "Sure. Fine, I wasn't interested in dinner anyway."

"Now, where was I?" She stroked her chin. "Oh yes, your preoccupation with women's mammary glands."

I put my hands on my knees and leaned forward. "First of all, I don't have a breast fetish. And two, I'm not suffering, except being here rather than at home, having dinner or relaxing with my feet up."

"We can move to a room with a couch if you prefer, but horizontal patients are so trite." Dr. Crumholtz's expression was a twisted smile.

Time to tell it like it is. "Your daughter happened across my pornography collection. A magazine about women with big tits was on top. If she'd looked through the stack -"

Stephanie crossed her arms. "God forbid."

"Yes, but if she had, she would have found others, whose subject matter would have been different." More than a few dealt with young women, but no reason to go into that level of detail.

"Thank God she didn't spend that much time or effort. I've raised her with strong virtue, and what do you and Norma do? Corrupt her thinking, that's what."

Norma was a corrupting influence? I tried once more. "There's no fixation, as you claim. I enjoy erotic material is all."

"You see, that's precisely my predicament. I can't have Inga performing her ministry with a pervert. What am I going to do with you?"

"Inga's a good girl, raised to confide in you," I said. "My collection of adult material is a harmless vice. No harm, no foul?" I stood up.

"Sit down. Your sexual habits are of significance because of your relationship with my daughter."

Hell, I didn't have a relationship, let alone relations. Well, her masturbating me was pleasant but hardly a relationship. "Believe me, I'm keeping my promise. Hands off. You made that perfectly clear." I raised both hands and flexed fingers to demonstrate.

"Good. I'm relieved to hear that. Still, your interest in sexual materials is not a positive sign."

The phone buzzed.

"Norma got here quicker than I expected. Wait here. There are some magazines to keep you occupied. I hope the lack of naked pictures doesn't bother you."

What an attitude. Maybe if her husband's plumbing worked, she'd be more relaxed, and not so concerned with other people's sexuality. Her magazines were all psychology journals, reporting successful treatments of aberrant behaviors. Fascinating. I tried out her chair. Too hard, or perhaps it was a custom-built for her bottom. My guest chair was softer. I decided to check out the view, and pulled the drawstring for the drapes. They opened, but not to the outside. Dr. Crumholtz was shaking hands with a young woman, presumably Norma. Shit, it was patient C-19871114-002, Miss Perfect Tits, from Dr. Fleischmann's office! I ducked down, so they wouldn't see me. When I peeked over the frame and they weren't reacting, I realized it was a one-way mirror. I stood, watching Dr. Crumholtz offer Norma, Miss Perfect Tits, a seat. In the tug of war between her and her miniskirt, the skirt won, riding too high on her thighs. The boots added to the intentionally sexy look.

Their room had identical chairs plus a desk off on the side. That must be her real office, and I was in a consultation room. A simple panel with two switches was mounted below the window. One labeled Talk, the other Listen. I had no training in lip reading. Lip locking, yes. I flipped the Listen switch.

"-for seeing me, I guess," said Norma. Her expression was a mixture of worry and contempt.

"I'm glad you decided to seek my assistance. I'm sure I can help you. Your mother is quite worried. We all are." Dr. Crumholtz leaned forward. "And as soon as we get you on a proper path, you and Inga can hang out together again."

"I'd like that."

Dr. Crumholtz opened her leather pad. "Your mother told me that recently, you've been acting out, wearing indecent clothing and using foul language. These are all typical behaviors of anyone trying to grab attention, typical of girls growing up -"

"I'm not a child!" Norma shouted.

"Of course not. You're a young woman, looking for answers. Where would you like to start?"

If Norma was looking for answers about sex, she'd come to the wrong place. Dr. Crumholtz was poor at educating Inga, so why would she be any more successful with Norma? Besides, Norma was Inga's source for sex ed.

"I don't know." Norma's hands were clenched, pressed deep between her legs. Her forearms squeezed her tits together, making them stand out. It was just like watching the video from Dr. Fleischmann's office, only live. "Aren't you supposed be to be asking me stuff?"

"All right. I remember the way you used to dress, long skirts, modest make-up, and now that's changed dramatically. How come?"

"I just want boys to be nice to me. Is that so bad?"

"No, that's perfectly natural. But you don't have to run around half-naked to get attention. You're so pretty -"

"You can't tell by the way they act. All they want to do is get their hands on these -" She raised her hands and grabbed her breasts.

Dr. Crumholtz's jaw dropped.

"They're too big, right?" Norma asked.

Dr. Crumholtz stuttered gibberish. This show was worth the price of admission, Dr. Crumholtz's belligerent, holier-than-thou attitude confronted with an overtly sexual young lady her daughter's age. If Dr. Crumholtz couldn't handle her own demure daughter, it would be glorious to see her try and keep up with this little fox.

"Anyway, I went to see a specialist, to find out if he could make them smaller." Norma slid her hands up and covered her face. 'Oh, it was so embarrassing. I don't think I can tell you."

So, Norma had interest in breast reduction surgery? Or was Dr. Fleischmann merely another conquest?

"I understand. Getting the words together can be difficult. Maybe if you reenacted the episode, it be easier," suggested Dr. Crumholtz.

Norma looked up with a victorious smile. "Oh could we? Are you sure?"

Norma's trap had sprung. I knew precisely what good old Doc Fleischmann had done, and now I'd get to see Dr. Crumholtz, Stephanie, play with Norma's perfect tits, from a front row seat. Thinking of Stephanie as a woman instead of a professional was easier now, with Norma in charge.

"What happened first?" asked Stephanie.

I remembered perfectly.

"He told me to take off my blouse." Norma unbuttoned and shrugged off the outer garment. There they were again. Just like last time, in a flesh colored undergarment.

"Good. We're making progress. Then what?"

"He told me to take off my bra." Norma trembled. "I hesitated about doing it, but I guess he had to see them, right?" Her hands went to her back.

It was almost bonus time. I licked my lips to corral my saliva.

"You don't really have to -" Too late. Norma shrugged, and the straps fell to the sides.

Stephanie nodded. "What did he tell you?"

Norma's bra sagged, just like at Dr. Fleischmann's office, barely covering her two treasures. "It wasn't what he said." Norma looked up, eyes pleading. "Oh, God, this is really hard."Nowhere near as hard as my cock, which throbbed at the sight of the gangling undergarment.

Stephanie walked over and patted Norma's head. "There, there."

Norma let the bra drop. I choked. There they were, as perfect as last time, but live, in color, not a dozen feet away as the crow flies, or the dick points, or whatever. Stephanie looked away from Norma's exposed torso.

Norma prattled on. "It started with touching. Holding them, squeezing them, pulling at my nipples -"

Stephanie pulled back, bumping into her chair. "It's perfectly natural for a breast reduction surgeon to, uh, touch you." She didn't seem confident.

"Do you want me to continue?" asked Norma.

Stephanie's own chest heaved. "Yes, please."

Norma sat upright, thrusting out her chest, waiting. "So, aren't you going to play the doctor's part?"

"Uh, why don't you just show me what he did?" asked Stephanie.

Norma cupped and hefted her breasts, then frowned. "It's not the same when I do it." She lets her hands fall away. "Just put your hands on them, and I'll tell you what he did."

Stephanie didn't budge. Was she scared?

"Don't you want to hear the story?" asked Norma.

Stephanie rubbed her hands on her skirt. "Yes, of course. How else can I help you. But must I touch you?" A half-naked young woman in her office had her spooked. What was Stephanie's hang-up?

"Is anyone else here, who can play the doctor?" asked Norma.

A-ha! That's why Norma was here, right now. Because Inga told her I'd be here, to play the role of Dr. Fleischmann, the breast surgeon. But she didn't know I'd seen the video. Memorized was more like it.

Stephanie glanced directly at the mirror "Hmm. Yes, there is someone here, for treatment." She stroked her jaw and pursed her lips. "In fact, he might be just the right-"

"He? A man?" Norma's reluctance was well played. "I thought that, you know, maybe you'd have a female assistant -"

"Now, now, the specialist was a man. Besides, I'll be here to monitor things. You'll be perfectly safe. Let me bring him in."

I flicked the switch off and yanked the drapes shut. When Stephanie opened the door, I was sitting cross-legged with a magazine in my lap.

"That's quite a skill, reading upside down." She was Dr. Crumholtz again.

Damn. "Works the brain cells harder that way. Are we going to resume?"

"I have an exercise I believe will be therapeutic for you, as well as another patient." She rifled through the magazine bin and pulled out a thick journal-style publication. "I just finished reading an article from an institute in Pennsylvania on fulfillment therapy. They've gotten marvelous results. The theory is that people like you, with abnormal desires, abandoned those desires when faced with the realization of their fantasies. So, exposing you to a woman with large breasts should go a long way to curing your fetish."

Sounds like giving a cigarette to a smoker trying to quit. Satisfying, but hardly helpful. "Sure, whatever you say."

"You're going to be part of a role play. You'll be a doctor examining a female patient. After this, you'll be able to dismiss your fantasies and throw out all of that pornography. Come with me." It was an order.

The hell I was going to trash my collection! Some of those European editions were quite expensive. I just hoped that my hard penis wasn't too visible as I stood.

I followed Dr. Crumholtz down the hallway to the next room. When I entered, Norma feigned shock and pulled her blouse across her chest.

"Norma, this is Mr., uh, Mr. Smith. He's here for breast fixation therapy. With your indulgence, I'd like for him to participate in your reenactment.""I'm not sure I'm liking this." She dragged the blouse around, teasing me.

I stuck out my hand, no more than a foot from my fantasy tits. Norma shook it firmly. Her middle finger was bent in, rubbing my palm.

Only one woman had ever performed the "fuck me" handshake. I was in college, at a mixer, where guys and gals of arbitrary class, both social and graduating year, got together to ostensibly listen to music but really to pair off for advanced necking and whatever else they deemed acceptable in their mutually inebriated state. In simple terms, random drunk sex. A brunette with wild shoulder-length hair had administered the "fuck me" handshake at the bar, a card table with open bottles of whatever students had contributed to the event. In a dark but public alcove in her dorm's lobby, she was assertive, practically jumping on my erection, still dressed in a pleated skirt. I never saw her again.

Norma's blouse sagged, exposing one breast that didn't. Her other nipple peeked out from the edge. I swallowed hard.

"Now, Mr. Smith, the rules here are simple. You'll play the doctor. Norma will explain what the real doctor did, and you'll follow her directions precisely. Is that clear?"

I nodded, never taking my eyes off Norma's chest. Would Dr. Crumholtz actually let Norma take control of this interaction? In the video, Dr. Fleischmann got a couple of handfuls, but then the video ended. Based on his case notes, he'd sent Norma home, no further consultation needed, from his perspective. So, I'd end up with my fantasy fulfilled, hands-on so to speak.

"We're in the wrong position," said Norma. "I was on an examining table. This chair is too low."

Dr. Crumholtz glanced around the room. "How about my desk?"

"That's perfect." Norma wiggled over to Dr. Crumholtz's desk and sat down, keeping her knees together while her skirt slid higher on her thighs. She dropped the blouse, exposing those glorious globes. "Where was I? Oh yeah, the doctor placed his hands on -"

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