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Self-confidence was the keystone. Patricia had more than her fair share of problems, he’d used up several pages of his notebook just listing them all, but her poor self-image was his over-riding concern. Crack that one and the rest would come tumbling down.

Mostly, self-confidence is about empowerment. Persuade the client that they can take charge of, and responsibility for, their own lives and that’s that. “You’re cured. Have a nice life and please send in the next client on your way out.” Patricia’s problem was the other sort. She was deeply unhappy with the way she looked: Possibly a valid concern as she had a minor curvature of the spine and saw this as the reason men were not attracted to her. He couldn’t just tell her that was rubbish: It wasn’t. But a physical abnormality is not an insurmountable problem. How many men aren’t married to super-models? How many women aren’t dating Brad Pitt? How many happy people haven’t got perfect bodies?

* * * * *

Patricia wasn’t actually Andrew’s client. She was his girl friend’s sister: A relationship that pretty much barred Andrew from taking her on as a client. Patricia was over from Portugal, staying with them for a few weeks combined holiday and job hunt. She’d had an interview with the BBC world service: If she got the job, she’d find a flat to rent, otherwise she’d return to Lisbon.

Elena, Andrew’s girlfriend, was a dancer and her rehearsal schedule had given Patricia and Andrew a lot of evenings together. Andrew was a professional good listener and, before she knew it, Patricia was telling him her life story.

The solution for Patricia’s self-confidence issues was not something Andrew would ever even contemplate. It had come from Elena, His girlfriend. Late one night, as she nestled against his shoulder in post-coital reverie, Elena had said “She’s a virgin. Did she tell you that?”

“Honey Bunny, you know I can’t discuss your sister. Ethics.”

“Poo! She’s not – couldn’t be – your client. Ethics.”

“Still – its not appropriate to discuss her. She’s learning to trust me and that’s a fragile thing. Lets talk about something else – what to do with this stiffy for instance.” He raised the duvet with one hand and admired his second wind.

“That’s what I’m trying to discuss.” Elena rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and pushing herself upright. “Patricia’s a virgin – that’s her problem. This…” She slid backwards, pressing her bottom against his erection. “…This is the cure.”

“You’re joking.” He looked at Elena’s eyes. She didn’t look like she was joking.

“I love my sister. I want her to be happy. Tell me that this won’t work.” She rocked against his cock again.

“It won’t. Sure, she needs to get laid, but not by me. She’s your sister for Christ’s sake! I am not going to sleep with your sister: That’d screw her up in a whole new way. It’d screw us up too, eventually.”

“You think I will be jealous?”

“I love you. I won’t even risk making you jealous.”

“I won’t be jealous. You and Patricia are the two people I love most in all the world. She needs this.” She looked severely sincere.

“She’d never sleep with her sister’s boyfriend. The guilt would stop her, even if I did make a play for her.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing himself say. Was he seriously discussing deflowering his potential sister-in-law?

“She has a crush on you.”

“Really?” Surely he’d have noticed. It was a common problem in his line of work. Trust often translated into fixation.

“Yes, really. And you are very persuasive.”


“You seduced me – on our first date too.” She smiled as she said it but it raised a valid point. He was 15 years older than Elena and, by the conventional rules, she was way out of his league. She had been 20, talented, startlingly pretty and as bubbly as shook champagne: He’d met her at his own 35th birthday bash. A workout buddy had brought her along as a date. She’d stood her date up by 10pm and that was that. She moved in the following weekend. Every time he looked in the mirror he wondered at his great good fortune. He wasn’t bad looking – for 37. An hour a day fighting the battle of the bulge at the gym had given him a reasonable physique though nothing like the male dancers Elena knew so many of. His penis wasn’t world beating either – seven inches, perhaps a little more on special occasions and good for two performances a night but nothing to write home about. Yet Elena seemed so happy with him. Best not to dig too deeply into why.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She pressed back harder.

Andrew could feel the heat of her arousal as Elena’s labia pressed against his penis: She was really turned on. The whole prospect was actually exciting her, in which case… It might well be…

His train of thought careered into a tunnel as Elena moved again, guiding his cock with slim fingers into her body and sinking back down onto his hips, gyrating slowly.

“Ok…ok…But you’re gonna have to come clean with her after: Tell her it was bahis siteleri your idea.”

Elena looked delighted as she flung herself forward and kissed him. That was settled then. As their kiss drew out, his hips started to rock, pistoning him gently inside her. Elena moved in response and their rhythm soon established itself. There was no more talking, just a sharing of body fluids at either end and a frenzy of roaming hands in between. Elena controlled the pace from on top, upping the tempo to the full flash dance pace before climaxing loud and long as Andrew, going rigid, unloaded into her for the second time that night.

In the darkness, in the guest room, Patricia’s cheeks were wet as she listened to the muffled sound of her sister’s orgasm. It wasn’t the first time – they seemed to be at it every night – but it was the loudest, most obviously ecstatic yet and it all just rubbed salt in Patricia’s emotional wounds. Nobody had ever made her feel that good. When the silence returned, she cried herself to sleep.

* * * * *

Patricia finally opened up fully the evening of Elena’s final rehearsal. She talked very candidly about a variety of issues she’d previously avoided, even responding positively when Andrew tested how far this new found candour went by asking some seriously personal questions. It was a level of trust born of desperation, but trust nonetheless.

She summarised her self-image problem with an outburst of, “Nobody wants to fuck a hunchback.” Followed by tears behind trembling hands.

“Hunchback? A bit of an exaggeration surely?” It was a very minor curvature: so minor that until Elena had told him, he’d originally thought it was just bad posture.

“It’s not an exaggeration.”

“Well I don’t see it. Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me this hump you’re going on about. Take off your blouse and show me what all the fuss is about.”

“I don’t need to take anything off, it’s obvious.”

“Its obvious that your back is curved but I want to see it in the flesh, so to speak. Take off your blouse please.”

A little puzzled and a little mesmerised by the calm monotone of his voice, Patricia started to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. She got to the last button before 23 years of Catholic indoctrination reasserted itself and her hands dropped to her lap, along with her gaze. After a few seconds’ silence, she started to sob again.

He crossed the room to where she sat and drew her to her feet. Her gaze was still resolutely downward but she offered no resistance. Walking backwards, he led her to the large mirror and rail he had bought for Elena to exercise with. Turning Patricia to face herself, He stood close behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“One more button.”

Her shaking fingers fumbled with the button but succeeded in unfastening it.

Andrew could feel his penis swelling at the prospect of seduction. Elena had repeatedly asked him to seduce Patricia, every night for the last week, and the idea had grown into something of a fantasy for him too. And sisters were a common enough male fantasy.

As the last button yielded, he stroked her blouse from her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms where it hung like loose cotton manacles around her forearms. He carefully swept aside her long, auburn hair, draping it over one of her shoulders to expose her back. A pale scar ran down her spine for 7 or 8 vertebrae, bisected by her bra strap. He touched it gently, feeling her stiffen. Her reflection was still gazing at the carpet.

“Look at us.” His free hand reached around to raise her chin. Slowly her eyes followed and met his in the mirror. “Good.” His fingers, touching the scar, traced its length downwards. She shivered. “This is in the way.” He tapped the clasp of her bra to indicate his meaning then, without giving her time for cold feet, he unfastened the hooks. Her hands shot up to cup the fabric against her breasts but at least now her back was naked. He stroked her spine with the flat of his hand, feeling the slight curvature, the subtly different texture of the scar and the trembling of the girl. He felt like a predator and it excited him. He reached around to embrace her, placing his hands over hers and easing them downwards to free her bosom. She tried to look away.

“Watch us.” He whispered in her ear, drawing her hands free of her breasts. They were surprisingly well shaped and much fuller than her sister’s. He gazed at them in the mirror then slowly place his hands where hers had been, cupping a breast in each, covering her nipples.

There were fresh tears on her cheeks as she watched herself in the mirror. She sniffled and tried to object but he cut her off.

“I have a question for you. Will you answer me truthfully?” It was such an odd request that, dumbfounded, she could only nod.

Andrew pressed his throbbing crotch against the small of her back and said, “Am I a pervert who just wants to fuck a hunchback?”

“N-No.” She stammered.

“Correct. I’m just a man aroused by the half naked girl in his arms. You have lovely canlı bahis siteleri breasts. See.” He took his hands away, revealing nipples that had responded to being touched by standing tall and proud. “See. Lovely.” He cupped one hand under one breast, this time not hiding the perky pink bit. His other hand stroked her flat smooth belly – so much softer than Elena’s six pack – until his fingers slipped into the top of her jeans up to the last knuckle. His fingertips could just reach the waistband of her panties. “Unfasten your jeans.”

“B-but Elena…I-I can’t…”

“Elena loves you. She has given us her blessing.” It sounded melodramatic but this was a 23 year old catholic virgin. “Unfasten your jeans.”

Her fingers obeyed him, even while her face registered fear and apprehension. The zip broke the silence, revealing a glimpse of white cotton. The button caused her more difficulty, tight as the jeans were with his fingers crammed into them. He didn’t offer any help. She had to do this herself. It took a while but she got there. As the jeans parted, his hand advanced inside her underwear, smoothing down her pubes – lots of pubes – until he could cup her sex in his hand. The knowledge that he was the first to touch Patricia intimately was making his erection painful in his own pants. He pressed her against it.

“Tell me what you want right now.” He whispered. His fingers massaged her labia, feeling the moisture and warmth she wouldn’t be able to deny.

“I-I” She broke down in sobs again, trying to cover her face.

“Tell me.” His voice was soft, kind but insistent.

“Make me a woman!” She blurted. More catholic melodrama.

“You will give me your virginity?” He pressed the point.

“Yes.” She was still crying but there was fire in her eyes too now, a fitting match for the heat under his slick fingers. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Setting her on her feet again, he slipped her panties and jeans down in one swift motion, leaving them around her ankles as he urged her back onto the bed. Kneeling, he parted her knees and got his first real look at what makes a virgin. She didn’t even trim her pubic hair. Auburn curls spread all over her mons veneris and all but hid her labia. He parted the undergrowth with his fingers, drawing open like petals her outer lips. Leaning forward, he kissed the soft wet flesh before starting to lick and tease her pussy, wanting her to enjoy an orgasm to loosen her up before the painful moment of actual defloration. His delving tongue actually found her intact hymen and his cock throbbed all the harder at the realization.

Patricia lay back, lost in the sensations. Her mind was awash with thoughts of sin and guilt and all the reasons this was wrong and of her sister and her priest and … but none of the fleeting thoughts was enough to cling to in the storm of sensations that was blowing in from the nether regions. She had never experienced anything like this before. Even the few times she had touched herself, she’d felt only enough to confirm that it must be sinful and stopped. She’d confessed to the priest once and been severely chastised for defiling her body.

The sensations and delirium grew and grew until they were the only things there was any room for. Still they grew, until she felt she would explode if it didn’t stop. Then she exploded. Her whole body shook with the force of her first ever orgasm. She was too far away from reality to hear her own voice screaming in climactic abandon. The storm subsided, the following calm washed over her and she lay in the warmth of contentment, breathing heavily as Andrew ran his tongue over the very edges of her pussy, mopping up her juices and sending little aftershocks through her body.

Andrew stood and quickly undressed, freeing his rock hard-on at last. He knelt again to gently remove Patricia’s jeans and panties from around her ankles. He admired his handiwork, wishing he could capture the image for posterity – Patricia lying legs akimbo with her blouse open but still on and her little pink ankle socks. But he had a job to do. He raised her legs until her calves rested against his shoulders then shuffled closer, his cock bobbing to and fro as it inched toward her now well lubricated vulva.

Patricia finally opened her eyes as his glans nudged her hole.

“Ready?” He asked her, holding her hips in preparation for the plunge.

She nodded and he thrust forward as hard as he could, meeting only momentary resistance from her maidenhead as he tore through it and buried his cock to the hilt in her. Patricia squealed in high C at the sharp pain but Andrew remained perfectly motionless inside her, waiting for the discomfort to pass.

When she opened her eyes again, he slowly started to withdraw then, still ever so slowly, pushed back into her, watching for signs of pain.

“Does that hurt?” He asked

“A little. But it’s not bad.”

“The worst is over. You’re a woman at last. How do you feel?” He continued to stroke in and out gently.

“Sore… but wonderful.”

“See canlı bahis that?” He withdrew halfway and pointed to her vagina. Patricia propped herself up on her elbows to see. There was a trace of blood on his penis. “That’s the remains of your virginity.” He pushed back in, picking up the pace a fraction to test the waters. She didn’t wince so he carried on, picking up steady speed.

Patricia lay back again as the newfound sensations of pleasure warmed her and eased away the discomfort. She was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside when Andrew tensed and something scaldingly hot flooded her insides. As he relaxed, she realized he had come.

Andrew slipped out of her slick hole and stood shakily before flopping onto the bed beside her and drawing her close.

They kissed. Patricia noticed how odd his mouth tasted but it was a few seconds before it dawned on her that what she was tasting was her. The realization froze her momentarily, prompting concerned looks from Andrew. It wasn’t a bad taste though: She kissed him again. The phone rang.

Patricia practically levitated off the bed, her expression one of shock and guilt simultaneously. Reflexively, she started to fasten her blouse, only succeeding in getting it even more entangled with her bra.

Andrew made a long arm and picked up the receiver. “Hi Honey Bunny.” He took a guess it would be Elena. “…We’ve had a lovely evening. How were rehearsals?” He watched Patricia scrabbling for her knickers while Elena explained that they would be rehearsing very late and she was going to stay over at Bettina’s flat as they had last minute stuff to discuss before tomorrow’s opening night. “…Sure Honey. You have a good time. Don’t stay up too late.” Patricia had one leg back in her jeans now. “… I’m taking your sister to The Sanctuary tomorrow.” This was a personal code to tell Elena that he’d seduced her sister because he’d stressed that a full make-over was an essential part of her ‘treatment’. On the other end of the phone Elena was elated at the news. “…Yes, everything’s fine here.” Patricia was fastening her jeans. “… See you tomorrow night, Darling. Kisses.” After a few seconds more, Andrew stretched to hang up the phone and appeared to notice Patricia, fully dressed, for the first time since she’d fled his bed.

“Elena’s very happy for you. She says to tell you she loves you.”

Patricia fell to her knees and buried her face in the duvet, sobbing her heart out.

Andrew had expected this. The guilt of sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend combined with the catholic guilt of… well… being catholic, had caught up with her. He stood, bollock naked and lifted her to her feet. She struggled a little but soon clung to him, hiding her face on his shoulder and blubbering. As he held her close, he let his hands wander over her bottom and her back, stroking the curve of her spine from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back. After a few minutes, she was all sobbed out. He eased her away from his shoulder and kissed her puffy eyelids and tear streaked, still wet cheeks. When he got to her mouth, her lips slightly parted and tremulous, he kissed her forcefully, passionately, using his hands on her ass to pull her hips against his. When she started to return the kiss properly, he knew she was past the worst of the guilty feeling.

He undressed her again, unfastening the buttons himself this time, then led her into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It wasn’t a proper cubicle, just an electric shower over the bathtub and a plastic psycho curtain. However, there was room for two. He urged her under the warm water and took his time washing her thoroughly, lingering when he reached her mat of pubes. It’d been several first times for him too: First time with a virgin, first time with a girl who’d never even trimmed her hair down there and first time he’d fucked two sisters. He was feeling very good about how it had all worked out. He made sure Patricia’s pussy was clean – it had been a bit musky after a day in tight jeans and he’d given her no time to freshen up.

When he’d rinsed her off, she washed him. His penis had risen steadily as he soaped her up and she’d watched its rise with fascination. Now it firmed up under her slippery caress and the tingle of warm water. By the time he was clean, he was also ready for a second bite of the cherry.

They towelled each other off and went to bed. Patricia was very quiet as she snuggled against him and he realized that she was going to be too sore for another fuck and it was too soon to introduce her to the art of fellatio. Resigned, he closed his eyes and slept. Tomorrow was soon enough for talking and fucking. At least she’d stopped crying.

* * * * *

Patricia woke to find Andrew sitting on the side of the bed in a bath robe, sipping coffee. There was a second steaming cup on the bedside table.

“Good morning Sleepy Head.” He put down his cup and bent over to buzz her lips. “How’re you feeling today? Sore?” As he straightened up he flicked back the duvet, revealing her naked body to the knees. She instinctively tried to cover up but he caught her wrist and drew the five-finger fig leaf aside. She relaxed, easing her thighs a little as his hand sought a path between them. His fingers on her sex felt good and she spread her knees wider.

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