1. A Little Simulation


    Date: 9/8/2016, Categories: Interracial, Author: WritersFriend, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories

    “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 ...
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