Message-ID: <20019eli$9902180428@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: MichaelD38@aol.com Subject: NEW {MichaelD} "Virginity is Curable, Inquire Within" (1/2) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: IMPORTANT LEGAL INFORMATION If you have received this work in your e-mail box and do not know why, it is because your Internet service provider is forwarding posts from Usenet newsgroups to your account. It has *NOT* been e-mailed to you by the author. You must contact your ISP for help. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity, and anyone offended by such things should read no further. If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. This work is intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults, and any other use is a violation of the copyright. This work is Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com and is protected by United States and other international copyright law. Reposting and archiving is permitted, except where a fee of any sort is required or earned for access, provided this disclaimer and note remain attached to the story. All other rights, specifically rights of commercial use, are reserved. Commercial use here is defined to include posting on membership web sites, banner-funded web sites, and those protected by fee-based age validation methods (such as Adultcheck and Adultsights). However, exception is specifically made for web sites (such as DejaNews) that provide archiving and access to all Usenet posts in a particular group without editing or selection for content. No modifications may be made to this story without express permission from the author. Any questions regarding use of this work can be directed to the address above. Failure to contact the author prior to use is presumptive evidence of bad faith and may expose you to significant criminal and civil liability. AUTHOR'S NOTE No codes and no notes today, save one: this is a weird story, so try not to take it at face value. Intelligent comments and criticisms will receive appropriate responses. Flames and juvenile slobbering go straight to the recycling bin. VIRGINITY IS CURABLE, INQUIRE WITHIN Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com "In an insane world, the sane man must indeed appear insane." --Mr. Spock I. The voice on the other end of the phone was one I had heard many times before. Only the names ever seemed to change. "Doctor, I just don't know what to do with her. I'm at my wit's end." "First of all, try to keep some perspective. You're not the first mother to have problems like this with a teenage daughter. Don't give up hope. It's just a question of finding the right motivation for her." "So you'd be willing to help us?" "Yes. I have room in my schedule. How does Thursday afternoons at four sound? Is that too early?" "No, that would be great. She gets out of school at three- thirty. I can pick her up, and we can come straight there." "Great." "Thank you so much, Doctor. You don't know what this means. I just hope you can help her." "I'll do my best." When she hung up, I reviewed the notes I had taken. Julia Drake, age sixteen. Fairly typical problems for her age: running with the wrong element, dating the wrong boys, no respect for her parents. And sex, of course. That was always the biggie. Apparently the phone call had been prompted by her mother's discovery of a pile of books and magazines in her closet, some pretty explicit stuff from the sound of it. Nothing I hadn't dealt with before, though. I would find a way to get to her, like I had with nearly every kid I'd treated before. I worked out of a plush office in Brentwood, treating the children of the West L.A. gentry. I'd come a long way from counseling kids at the county children's home, where I'd worked after getting my M.D. ten years ago. Rewarding stuff, to be sure, but no way to pay the rent. Little by little I'd built a private practice until I was able to step out on my own. Childhood sexual disorder might be a pretty narrow specialty, even in psychiatry, but in this town I had no shortage of patients. Julia and her mother showed up Thursday afternoon. She was a cute kid, or would be were it not for the way she was dressed. Straight blonde hair, absolutely no makeup, wearing just a simple white sweater and a knee-length skirt. No wonder her mother was worried. Julia kept her eyes on the floor, not saying anything or meeting my gaze. Her mother sat next to her on the couch, crossing her fishnet-stockinged legs. "Why don't we get started with the basics?" I said. "Well," her mother said, "you can see just by looking at her what I have to put up with. The clothes I thought I could take. I thought it was just a phase. But look what I found in her closet." She handed me a small pile of magazines with a spiral notebook on top. The magazines were stuff I had seen before, even though the stores weren't supposed to sell them to minors. This month's copy of "Celibate Woman" and a couple issues of "Virtue." "My Life Without Sex" was one of the teasers on the cover. I set them aside and flipped through the notebook, apparently the place Julia had been setting down her heated fantasies: "'I don't want to kiss you,' he said to me, 'I want you to stay pure until our wedding night, and even then we should only have *** when we want children.'" My God, she hadn't even been willing to write the word "sex." This was maybe worse than I had thought. I set them down and leaned back in my chair, sighing. "All right. Mrs. Drake, it might be more helpful if I could talk to Julia alone." She fidgeted a second, pulling up the hem of her leather mini- skirt an inch or two. Unlike her daughter, who appeared to be wearing tights--tights, for God's sake, who sold stuff like that to children?-- the tops of Mrs. Drake's stockings were decently on display. "Well, if you think so. I'll just wait outside." "Thank you." She left us alone, and I looked at Julia for a moment or two. I shifted in my chair, pulling the seams of my leather chaps out of the furrows they had dug into my buttocks. "I'm guessing you don't want to be here." She shrugged. "We can talk about whatever it is you want to talk about." Another shrug. "You and your mom are not getting along? You feel like she's pressuring you to be someone you aren't?" She nodded. I picked up the copy of "Virtue" I'd examined earlier. "This stuff must seem pretty exciting." She shrugged. "I know for girls your age, the concept of virginity is thrilling because it's so rebellious. It's a way to break away from your parents, to establish your own identity. It seems fun and cool while you're doing it, but in the long run, it can be very damaging." She still didn't say anything. "You're not very popular at school, are you? You and your friends are probably the outcast clique or something like that?" "Yeah. I guess." "Do you enjoy that? Do you enjoy the looks you must get from the other kids, the way people talk about you?" A shrug. "Do you like being called a virgin? Does it make you feel good to hear people say that?" Nothing. I reached for her notebook and opened it up. "All right. Let's look at some of this." I started reading from a story she'd written toward the end. "'He reached for my breast--" she had written it b***** "--but I slapped his hand away. 'I'm a virgin, and I'm going to stay that way,' I said. 'I'm sorry, Julia,' he said. 'You're right. Sex--" again it was written *** "--is wrong.'" I looked up at her. "Why do you think sex is wrong, Julia?" "Because I'm not married. Because it's only for making babies." "Do you think that's a healthy attitude? You don't find that unnatural?" "I don't care if it's natural or not." "Do you think it's wrong to feel pleasure?" She shrugged. "Are you happy?" She looked up. "What do you mean?" "It's a simple question. Do you enjoy being the person you are? Are you happy being the Julia Drake I see sitting in front of me?" She shrugged again, looking down, but I could see tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. "Because Julia, I don't get the impression that you are." I didn't get much further with her that afternoon, but it was a start. II. The next day, I called one of Julia's counselors at her school, a woman named Angela Tarantino. Once we got the professional niceties out of the way, she confirmed what I had suspected. "Julia has been quite a trial. I can't tell you how many times she's been to my office for behaving inappropriately. I mean, dress, attitude, language, you name it. A few months ago, one of the younger teachers, who didn't know her well enough, approached her about a date, and she told him off in terms I'm not going to repeat. She and her friends like to hang around the student quad and harass the other students. At least once a week, one of them gets in trouble for interrupting other students who are having sex. And I won't even tell you about the scene she caused in health class when they began working on masturbation." "How long would you say she's been like this?" "Since I've had to deal with her. The notes in her file seem to indicate that the trouble started in seventh grade. Since then, she's just been one of the bad kids. It's frustrating, because I know she's capable of behaving properly when she wants to." I paused for a second to slow my secretary down. She was fellating me as I talked to Angela, and I thought it would be bad form to have an orgasm while I was on the phone. "You don't have any insights as to why?" "My guess, and this is just a guess, is that the absence of her father has something to do with it. Without any male role models, she's never figured out how to deal with sex properly." I tried approaching the issue when Julia returned next week, but got nowhere. She came to see me every Thursday, and though bit by bit I managed to chisel some gaps in the wall she had built around herself, we did not make much progress. She still dressed shamelessly--thick, high-necked sweaters, long-sleeved blouses, long skirts (never pants), not a hint of cleavage anywhere--and insisted, despite all my arguments, that there was nothing wrong with virginity. "If virginity were a healthy, uplifting state, don't you think you would get some happiness and fulfillment from it?" She shrugged. "Okay. Let's try another tack. You weren't always into celibacy, right? Your mother tells me it began a few years ago, when she started talking about your becoming sexually active. Would you say that's accurate?" She nodded. "What did your mother say? Do you remember? How did she bring the subject up?" She took a deep breath. "I think it was after church one day. We talked about sex in Sunday school, and I mentioned it to Mom. She said something like, 'Are you going to be doing it in class?' and for some reason, we started fighting. I guess I just realized I was sick of her telling me what to do all the time. And about that time, I started being friends with some other girls who were into virginity. It just seemed so much more fun than what went on in Sunday school." "It's fun being an outcast? It's fun having the other kids look down on you and call you nasty names?" "I don't care what the other kids think." "Are you sure? There isn't some tiny part of Julia Drake who wants to be popular and accepted?" She sighed. "I don't know. I think about it, and I just can't get past the idea that sex is wrong." "And you think it's wrong because it's only for procreation between a husband and wife." "Right." "Okay. So tell me, if true monogamy is what's morally right, why is it so rare in human history? Are Julia Drake and her friends right and the whole rest of the human race wrong? Why does nearly every human culture value sexual expression in one form or another?" "Because it's part of the oppression of women. Virginity and celibacy are the only way women can reclaim themselves." "And that's why so many women are happy being sexually active?" "They're in denial." "Denial. Really. Have you given any thought to the idea that you might be in denial? That all this is about some fear of your sexuality?" "I'm not afraid of my sexuality. I'm in control of it." When Julia left, Bridget came into my office. She was a busty redhead of about twenty-five. Although she dressed a little conservatively for my taste--she favored spandex tank dresses at work-- she was also an extremely competent secretary. "How is Julia coming along?" "Tough. It's going to take a while." "Do you think you'll need my help with her?" "Eventually, maybe. I'll let you know." "She's cute. I tried to flirt with her a little, but she wouldn't even talk to me." "She's a confirmed virgin right now. Give it time." "Okay. Anyway, Jill Weld cancelled. Car trouble or something. So you're off for the next hour. I thought we could fuck or something." "What are you in the mood for? I'm a little punchy." "Straight sex is fine." I nodded, and she pulled her dress over her head. I watched her firm breasts bouncing as she pulled the fold-down bed out of the wall. I stood and slipped off my chaps and leather vest. She met me at the edge of the bed, taking me into her mouth. I held her head in my hands, working my fingers through her long red hair. She bobbed over me for a few minutes before lying back on the bed. I started to kneel down between her legs, but she stopped me, pulling me on top of her. "I'm horny enough as it is. Just fuck me." I bent to kiss her as she guided my penis into her. I lifted off her once I was bottomed out and began thrusting rapidly into her, knowing the sorts of things she liked. Her breasts shook and quivered with each thrust, and she was soon bracing herself on the headboard to push back at me. She wrapped her legs around my waist and a few minutes later, I felt her shuddering into orgasm under me. I kept it up until she came a second time, then stopped. I rolled off of her, and she bent to take me in her mouth. Bobbing rapidly while she played with my balls, she quickly had me on the brink. Just as I reached climax, she forced the last few inches into her mouth and took my sperm down her throat. "Whew," she said when we were done. "I needed that." "How are the wedding plans going?" "Great. We got the caterer we wanted. Paul has been a big help. I always kind of expected to have to do everything with my mom, but he's been really involved." "Good. That's generally a good sign." "I know. By the way, he wanted to know if you wanted to come over tomorrow night." "I've got another commitment. How is Saturday?" "I'll ask him, but it should be okay. He also wanted to be sure you brought that vibrating cock ring you've got. You still have it, right?" "Of course." III. I continued seeing Julia for about two months with little change. Then, one day, she arrived for our session looking as if she had been crying. It took me a few minutes to find out why. "I was at my friend Marcia's house the other night. We were just sitting around talking about what we wanted our weddings to be like, and I just mentioned something about the wedding night, how we would finally see what the big deal was--all I meant was that we'd know, right?--not that I'd enjoy it! But they got all upset and started making fun of me, and I suddenly realized that I didn't like any of this. It isn't any fun anymore. All we ever talk about is virginity and how awful . . . " She paused for a second, beginning to cry. ". . . sex is." "And you realized that you're not happy with who you've become." She wiped at her eyes, sniffling. "No." "It's what therapists sometimes refer to as 'hitting bottom.' When you realize how far down you've fallen." "I hate myself," she sobbed. "I hate my life. I just want to be happy." I handed her a tissue, and she at wiped her eyes. "I don't think you've ever really enjoyed any of this, have you? You just thought it would be cool to hang out with other virgins and set yourself off from the rest of the world." She nodded, continuing to sob. "Julia, I want to try something. Just an experiment. You've lived for so long inside this rigid box. All I've been trying to do is get you to see what's it like outside of it. Would you like to try?" She sniffed. "What is it?" "Stand up." She did. "Take off your clothes." Her face went hard for a second, but then she relaxed, taking a breath. Hands shaking, she reached down and pulled up the bottom of her sweater, having to pause for a second before she pulled it up over her breasts. She wore a thick, broad white bra under the sweater, completely covering herself. I took the sweater from her as she unzipped her skirt and let it fall down. She was still wearing those hideous white tights, and under them a shamelessly huge pair of panties. "Wait a moment. How do you feel?" "Okay. Weird. I don't know." "This is perfectly normal. You're still wearing more than most people do." She took another deep breath and unsnapped her bra. Her breasts were full and pretty, little pink nipples that began to erect in the cool air of my office. I took the bra from her, and she slipped off her tights, then her panties. "Doing all right?" "I feel so normal. Boring. This isn't me." "I think it is, but you haven't let the real Julia Drake out in a long time. You didn't dress like this when you were a child, did you?" "No. My mom dressed me in these stupid little stocking-and- garter belt things, with a spandex minidress over them." "When did that stop?" "A few years ago. I just felt like such a kid dressed that way." "All right. Sit down on the couch." She did. "Your mother has mentioned repeatedly how much trouble she's had trying to get you to masturbate." Julia scoffed, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, God, not this again. Do you know how many vibrators and dildos she's given me? She keeps offering to demonstrate them, and she's always trying to get me to go to the Young Adult Circle Jerks at our church. It just makes me sick. It's so lame." "When was the last time you masturbated?" She shook her head. "Years. I guess maybe when I was twelve. But that was when I started getting into celibacy, so not since then." "I want you to give it a try. No one has to know. But just try it." "Do I have to?" "Just humor me." She sighed, laying her head back on the couch. She half- heartedly moved her hand between her legs and began moving her fingers through her blonde sex. "I can hardly remember what to do," she said a minute later. "It's like riding a bike. Just do your best." "Do I have to . . . finish?" "I'd like you to try." I watched as she worked, fingers gliding back and forth through her folds. After few minutes, she began to get the rhythm of it, and her body began reacting. Her nipples swelled and stood out away from her breasts, and a flush spread over her skin. I could soon smell her arousal in the air. "God. If my friends could see me," she said. "They'd laugh themselves silly." "Does it feel good? Don't think about whether it's uncool or square or whatever the terms are these days. Just tell me whether you're enjoying it, not whether it's embarrassing." "I guess . . . I guess it feels good." "Keep going. Try to finish if you can." She continued, fingers moving faster, until a few minutes later, when she finally grunted and arched her back, shuddering slightly as it came to an end. I let her catch her breath for a moment. "Now tell me. Was that so bad?" "I felt so stupid." "I know. But did you enjoy it?" "I guess so." "It's not a crime to admit it." "Okay. I enjoyed it." "All right. I want to try something else. This is going to take a little more effort on your part." "What?" "For the next week, I want you to try dressing like a normal person. No more opaque tights, no more big bras, no more full length skirts. I'm sure your mother has bought you some regular clothes you can wear." "Oh, God." "I know your friends will laugh at you. But I think you've begun to see that they may be friends you don't need." "I don't know." "Just try this for a week. Just to see how the rest of the world lives. I think you'll find that it's not so awful." She stared at the floor for a few moments. "Okay." "When you come back next week, we can talk about it." IV. Saturday afternoon, I had to go to a convention downtown, where I was presenting a paper with a colleague of mine. The title of the work was a rather dry "The Correlation Between Asexuality and Neurotic Virginity in Adolescent Caucasian Girls," but we drew a full crowd. After making our presentation, we sat down for the question and answer period. "Doctor, how prevalent would you say neurotic virginity occurs in teenage girls?" "Our study showed an occurrence rate of 3.4 per thousand. I emphasize, as I did earlier, that we're talking about true neurotic virginity, not simply adolescent rebellion." "Could you expand upon the distinctions?" "Neurotic virginity, strictly speaking, is when a patient has some psychological need to refrain from sexual activity. They may want to engage in it, and quite often they don't enjoy their abstinence. They simply are not able to help themselves. Neurotic virginity tends to be characterized by repeated refusals to engage in sexual activity, even when the refusals are inflicting clear damage to the patient's life. Another common indicium is that the subject will insist, despite all argument to the contrary, that virginity is a normal and emotionally healthy condition. Intensive therapy will usually expose this as a rationalization, but getting the subject to recognize that can be difficult." "Did you find any correlation between neurotic virginity and drug abuse?" I glanced at my partner, who answered. "We weren't precisely examining that relationship, but in my experience, there tends to be a correlation. Certain narcotics are known to have a negative influence on the sex drive. But as I said, we weren't measuring that." "While there may be a correlation," I said, "I think we need to be careful about assigning a cause-and-effect. Someone may refrain from sex because of a serious drug addiction without having a neurosis that contributes to their celibacy." "Right," my partner said. "They often go hand in hand, and I have had patients who used drugs to suppress their sex drives, but the problems tend to be distinct." Julia's mother called me Monday morning. "Oh, my God. Dr. Ramsey, I think I have my daughter back." I laughed. "What happened?" "She was actually wearing normal clothes this morning. She came out of her room wearing just a green spandex miniskirt and a crop top. She was actually wearing makeup, and I don't think she was even wearing underwear, at least not a bra. I almost fainted when I saw her. What did you do?" "It's an experiment we talked about. She's going to try it for a week, then we'll see." "You don't know how much we've fought over her clothes. I would buy her this stuff, and she would never touch it." "We've got a lot of work still to do, but we're making progress." "Thank you. I mean that. You don't know what this means to me." Julia showed up on Thursday, and at first, I almost didn't recognize her. She had on some decent backseam stockings and a black leather microskirt. Her blouse was long-sleeved but quite sheer. She had apparently given up on her fixation with underwear, as her mother mentioned, because her breasts were nicely on display. Her eyes were obscured by thick black eye shadow, and her blonde hair was styled dramatically around her face. "Well," I said. "I thought I had an appointment with Julia Drake today." She smiled shyly, but didn't say anything. "Have a seat." She did. "So did you survive this week?" "I guess so. My old friends have basically dumped me. You can't believe how they laughed at me when I showed up at school like this. I wanted to run home and change, but I remembered how you wanted me to try. I though I'd just give it a day and see." "And it wasn't as bad as you thought." "No. I realize that now. I don't feel so alone and weird anymore. I've actually made friends with this girl in my math class. So maybe it won't be so bad." Then a broad smile spread over her face. "And I masturbated last night. Twice." "Good. Very good. Do you want to try it again this week?" "Sure." "Why don't we start. Just get out of your clothes." She stood up and began undressing, far less reluctant about it than last week. I dug around in my desk for a vibrator and handed it to her. She giggled. "I haven't used one of these in so long." "It's nothing complicated." She turned it on and began playing with it. She worked in and around herself, rubbing it back and forth over her clitoris. "Just try to relax. You're still very tense when you do this." "I'm sorry." "Don't think about whether it's cool or not. Just focus on what it feels like. Your body knows what to do if you'll just let it." "Okay." Some of the tension flowed out of her, and she began using her free hand to play with her breasts. In a few minutes, she reached orgasm, shaking and twitching on my couch. "How was that?" she asked afterward. "Better. But you still need to work on your attitude about it. I want you to try masturbating every night from now on. You can ask your mother for help, if it's not too embarrassing. I know she's just waiting for you to ask." "Okay. I'll try." "Good. We'll get together next week and talk about it more." ************************************************ Virginity is Curable, Inquire Within Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com Free redistribution permitted, no commercial use without authorization. ************************************************ -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----