Dr James Kirkham sat in his office and looked back over his journals. He had left Yorkshire nearly ten years ago to seek his fortune in London, determined to use all the skills he developed working with his mentor, Dr Helliwell.

His first patient in London turned out to be very profitable indeed. It was also one of his most unusual cases. At that point in his career. his patients were normally treated for hysteria using his chosen method of stimulation, the cure administered by his strong doctor's hands or his talented tongue. However, this first case was entirely something else and would always be his personal favourite.

He was called by Lord William Sanderson to attend a meeting at his gentleman’s club. There, tucked in a discreet corner of the library, Lord William, who with his large moustache looked like an elderly walrus, leaned in to speak to Dr Kirkham.

“This is a damned business, and I am told that I can rely on your discretion in more delicate matters.”

“Of course, your lordship. My success is based on being discreet.”

“Well, it is my daughter. She wants a child.”

“I am happy to examine her if you wish.”

“That is exactly what I do wish; now be quiet, man and let me finish. The problem is her husband, Peter DeVere. He is a molly. Do you know what that is?”

“It is not a term I am familiar with.”

“He likes to lie with other men. Exclusively.”

Dr James was shocked; he had heard of such things, of course, but you didn’t tend to see that in Yorkshire.

“He’s not a bad sort, other than that. I’m not one to judge. When I was a younger man, living in dorms with the other chaps, no girls around. Well, you get the picture, the sap was rising, and well, these things happen. Most of us leave that thing behind as we mature and discover the fairer sex. Not my son-in-law, though. That is his preference. My daughter loves him but wants a family, and there is no chance of that. The marriage had not been consummated. I tried to talk her into an annulment, but she adores him; he is her best friend, and she is content for him to do whatever makes him happy, even if he cannot or will not give her a child.”

“How can I help?”

“Well, you are a good-looking man. You are also similar in build and colouring to my son-in-law. I think you would be the perfect stand-in. I propose that you come down to my house in the country for the weekend for some ‘medical intervention’. My daughter will be there and my son-in-law won’t. He is away hunting with friends, though hunting for what exactly remains to be seen. I will see you then; Hampson will see you out.”

Before Dr Kirkham had a chance to reply, he was ushered out of the library by a uniformed servant. He supposed his silence was considered agreement. He imagined that Lord Sanderson was not used to being refused. So, a weekend in the country it was. His medical duties now included siring children for his patients.

Arriving at Lord Sanderson's ancestral home, Dr Kirkham hoped that he would not feel too out of place. He had worked for people at this level of society before, but now he would be socialising with them. Whilst they would never consider him an equal, they would allow him to move in their circle.

After settling in his room, he dressed for dinner. There, he met Lord Sanderson’s daughter, Mrs Lydia DeVere, for the first time. He was seated next to her at dinner, and initially, he could not speak; he was so enamoured with her. Instead, he listened. She was tall and elegant with delicate wrists and beautiful hands. Her neck and decolletage were quite entrancing, but more than this, it was her voice. It was melodic, and as she spoke, it was like listening to music.

Later, James could not tell you what they spoke about, but in his memories, he could hear her laugh and see her smile and beauty in the room's candlelight. He could recall the sparks of desire that crackled between them.

After he had retired for the evening, he reclined in his bed and thought about the delicious Mrs DeVere. Never had a woman had this effect on him before. He stroked himself as he thought of her. He had turned down his lamp and was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard the heavy door open and close. In the gloom, he could see a body dash across the room and dive under the covers.

Suddenly, he was being kissed with passion, a tongue searching for his as small, delicate hands wrapped around his turgid manhood.

“Finally,” the melodic voice said as Lydia dipped her head under the covers and took him into her mouth. Her tongue swirling around his head before sucking in his length.

“Oh, Mrs DeVere,” exclaimed Dr James as he was engulfed in pleasure; eventually afraid that his time was getting nearer, he pulled her away. “Stop or I will -”

“Oh, no, I must have it inside me,” Lydia exclaimed as she cast aside her nightgown and threw her legs astride him. She mounted him and began to bounce on his hard manhood. In the light of the dying embers of the fire, James could see her magnificent breasts bounce faster and faster as she moved above him; her velvety, wet tightness wrapped around him as if she were made for him. Finally, he could stand it no longer, and after reaching for her delicious fleshy mounds, he gave her nipples a pinch before roaring and turning her over.

He was in charge now. His mouth searching for hers, he kissed her deeply as he plunged into her depths, her moans turning into screams as he moved ever faster within her. She clasped his muscular buttocks, urging him on as she finally earned her release. Pausing for a second to enjoy her face of rapture, he once again ploughed on, gentler now, making love to her until grazing her lady button with his fingers, they both reached their climax. Exhausted, they both lay back on the crisp cotton sheets.

She snuggled into the soft hair of his chest, almost as curly as the hair on his head. She absentmindedly stroked his nipple and said,

“Now, finally, I am a woman.”

“You're a wonderful woman but quite wanton in your approach, Mrs. DeVere.”

“I think, considering the circumstances, you may call me Lydia,” she giggled as her tongue snaked out to explore his nipple. “You must understand that my father told me the purpose of your visit. It was embarrassing in the extreme. You must also understand that I am a woman starved of affection of this kind. I have spent so many nights dreaming of the touch of a man. A taste of a man,” she blushed. “When I realised that there was some mutual attraction at dinner, I did not want to waste a moment longer. I have waited long enough.”

“Well, I cannot thank you enough, dear lady, for your commitment to your passion and your ardour. It is such a waste of such a fine young lady. Your husband must be a fool.”

“No, please do not say that; he is what he is. We were expected to marry; unlike some in our position, it is a love match. He does love me, as I do him, but like friends, not lovers. He cannot love me in that way. I have tried. My maid is French and has taught me what men like, but not men like my husband. He cannot help it; he yearns for the passionate embrace of a man. How can I fault him when we both yearn for the same thing?”

“Are you happy now, Lydia? Have all your yearnings been sated?”

“Oh no, I am just a novice; I only know what my maid has told me, but now I need you to show me repeatedly.”

Smiling, James slid down towards the bed, his long legs splayed over the edge as he tasted Lydia for the first time.

“My maid told me of this; she said that few men do it. I am glad you are one that does,” Lydia panted as he licked up and down her folds. His tongue darted in and out of her delicious wetness, drinking in her nectar. James had sampled the honey from many a hairy pot in the course of his career, but Lydia’s was by far the sweetest he’d found. He could not get enough of her as he lapped and licked at her like a man possessed. Eventually concentrating on her lady button, he swirled it gently in his mouth before using the tip of his tongue to send her into ecstasy.

That weekend was like their honeymoon. They found it hard to leave the boudoir. Lydia was fascinated with all he had to show her, and he took every opportunity to fill her with his seed. He wanted her and needed her to have his child.

Many other weekends followed, and Lydia visited his practice in Harley Street. However, it was soon apparent that she was more than a mere patient. He refused to take any of Lord Sanderson’s money for any ‘treatment’ he provided to Lydia, which earned further respect from the old man and the recommendation to the great and good to become a patient of this wonderful young doctor. Dr Kirkham became ever more successful with the patronage of Lord Sanderson.

During her pregnancy, she continued to visit Dr Kirkham regularly to continue her treatment and her education at his hands. He taught her all he knew, and she was a more than willing participant. He wondered at her beauty as he roamed his hands over her large pregnant abdomen. He had never seen a woman so ripe, and he wanted to take her repeatedly during these months as her breasts swelled and her libido went wild. It was at the point that he anointed her body with warm oil that Dr Kirkham knew that he had crossed a line. He was now deeply in love with another man’s wife. As for Peter DeVere, he was excited to become a father, and his parents were ecstatic that they would become grandparents for the first time.

After Lydia was safely delivered of twin boys, both with the tightest curls, his relationship with Lydia continued. One weekend, once again a guest of Lord Sanderson, he found himself there with both Lydia and her husband.

Peter DeVere thanked James for his ‘kindnesses’ to his marriage and for delivering such fine sons. He also drunkenly said that he could understand why his wife was so enamoured with her handsome doctor. The way that he said it and the light he had in his eyes made James feel uncomfortable. After they had retired for the night, Lydia joined James in his bed. They were caressing when he realised in the shadowy corners of the room, Peter was watching them, rubbing himself as he witnessed their love.

“Get out,” growled James.

“Let me stay; I want to watch you, to see you pleasure her. She is my wife,” pleaded Peter.

“Yes, but she is my love. I have given you a family, two children to love. Something I have denied myself. I have nothing left for myself except this little bit of her. That I will keep, I will not share that with you. I will not cheapen it or sully it for your gratification. Good night, sir.”

“Oh James, my love, how I have hurt you,” cried Lydia after Peter had left, “You have given me so much; I have given you nothing in return.”

As James reached down to her breasts, still heavy with milk, he smiled as he sucked in her rosy nipple.

“No, my love. You have given me everything.”

He kissed her gently then before returning to lick and kiss her breasts.

“Please don’t make me wait; I need you now. Don’t make me beg,” she murmured, arching her back to offer yet more of her succulent breasts to his willing mouth. Moving between her legs, she opened up to him as he entered her, their lovemaking slow and languid at first before becoming more urgent as they became one. James kissed her, his tongue seeking hers as he thrust ever deeper within her. His lips sought out the sweet spot on her neck that always made her melt into a pool of lust. Dr James Kirkham had experienced many women's delights, but none could compare to his love. As she came undone beneath him, it was all too much for him as he filled her with the warmth of his love.

James smiled as he closed his journal. That time of his life had been a strange mix of elation and sadness. He rose from his chair. He must get home to his wife and children.

He now had four fine boys, all like peas in a pod. There was no denying that all of them were his sons. Officially, he was stepfather to the eldest two.

He had married the widowed Mrs Lydia DeVere after a suitable period of mourning for her late husband Peter, who had tragically died during a hunting accident.

Lydia Kirkham had made it quite plain that although his unorthodox methods of treatment could carry on in his professional life, only his hands must be used in any treatment. His mouth and his rod belonged to her and only to her. She used them both exclusively and extensively.

James smiled to himself as he walked up the steps of his London townhouse. He was a very lucky man.