Dr James Kirkham was a very successful doctor. Although still only in his thirties, he had built up a successful practice on Harley Street. He was not in general practice. He was a specialist, a consultant. His speciality had begun almost accidentally more than a decade ago as a newly qualified young doctor in a small market town in Yorkshire.

His boss, Dr Helliwell, was an old, gruff doctor who had welcomed the naïve young doctor straight from university. He had learnt such a lot from him. It was from him that he learnt what his specialism was, his talent, and his passion as a medic.

Amongst the general childhood diseases and tending to the ageing members of the town, Dr Helliwell also had great success with those patients suffering from nervous complaints. Particularly his female patients.

James learned about this aspect of Dr Helliwell's doctoring early in his time in Yorkshire. He was still in the first few weeks there accompanying Dr Helliwell on all his visits as he got to know the patients and, more importantly, they got to know him.

They had called on Mrs Taylor in one of the farms outside the town. Mr Taylor was a gentleman farmer, and Mrs Taylor was very much a lady. She was not the plump, rosy-cheeked farmer wife of storybooks. She was pale and listless when the two doctors arrived and looked on the verge of tears and hysteria.

Mr Taylor had met both men at the door. “I do not know what to do with her, Dr Helliwell. I've given her the pills like you said, but they haven't worked this time. She spends a lot of time weeping, and I can’t seem to get through to her. You always seem to get through to her. I have a problem with my men in the field, but I can stay if you need me.”

“No, you go about your business; it might be best if you go,” smiled Dr Helliwell kindly, “Let me sort this out for you.”

Looking relieved to escape, Mr Taylor rushed to his waiting horse.

Entering the parlour, Dr Helliwell looked fondly down at the lady. “Now then, young Ann, what’s all this nonsense about?”

Mrs Taylor just sobbed and wrung out the lace handkerchief in her hand.

“You know what you need to break the dam of this, don't you?” Dr Helliwell smiled kindly.

Amongst her sobs, Mrs Taylor nodded silently.

“Lock the door, lad, whilst I treat Mrs Taylor. And best close the drapes, too.”

I did as he asked, and then as I turned back from closing the drapes, echoes of the pale sunlight still shone into the room.

I stepped back with a start as I saw the aged Dr with his hand under Mrs Taylor's skirts, her head thrown back. I watched in awe as his hand moved faster and faster,

“Yes, my dear, let it out, let go. You will feel so much better. Come closer, lad, so you can see.”

I moved closer as he raised her skirts, her bloomers pulled down to her knees, showing her shapely thighs and her hairy quim, Dr Helliwell had his fingers inside her, already coated by her copious juices. His gnarled old hands moved faster as Mrs Taylor began to gasp and pant, still reclined in her chair. His thumb grazed her clitoris, and she moaned then.

“She needs a release. It is the only cure for her hysteria.” As he increased his speed yet further, Mrs Taylor cried out once more and collapsed back into the chair, spent.

Dr Helliwell sat back on his haunches, and he, too, was now breathless from his exertions.

“I am afraid that Mrs Taylor may need more stimulation today. Her mood was particularly low. Perhaps you would like to assist.”

Shocked as I was, I was also aware that I was hard within my britches. I crouched down to examine the patient. Examining her wetness with first one digit, then two. I licked my fingers,

“A most healthy vagina, I believe, judging by the taste of her ejaculate, Dr Helliwell, but I think I need a little more examination.”

With that, I dove between Mrs Taylor's lily-white thighs and began to lick up her copious fluids. My tongue darted in and out of her honeypot and licking and sucking in her lips as if she was my sweetheart. Her response was instant. Her head shot up with shock, and she grabbed my curly locks tightly in her fingers as she clasped her thighs together around my head. I licked and gently sucked her lady button into my mouth. My tongue rolled between her soft lips, tickling and stimulating her with my soft moustache.

“Oh, doctor, please. What are you doing? It is happening again. So strong I and I’m going to –“

Mrs Taylor never finished her sentence, and her release came in a thunderous roar as she shuddered and shook.

As I came up for air, I was perturbed to see Dr Helliwell, his cock released from the confines of his britches almost as gnarled as his hands. It was a good length, however, and he was about to have his own release into his silk pocket square.

“Well, young James, I have never seen the like, new-fangled ideas, but still just as effective. It was quite stimulating to me, too. I must say. But what about your own relief.”

With his permission, I, too, released my penis from its confines as I started to stroke it; Mrs Taylor, without looking in my direction, reached out her hand and began to stroke me vigorously until I, too, earned my release.

“Well, we are done, my dear. I am sure that you will now start to feel better. I will return in two days, or perhaps you would prefer Dr Kirkham to return on his own now that you have met him?”

Mrs Taylor smiled as she smoothed down her skirts, and I heard her speak in normal tones for the first time. “Oh no, I think I will need treatment from both of you, gentlemen.”

“Very well; in the meantime, I will suggest to your husband that he continues the treatment himself. You seemed to respond so well, particularly to that administered by young Dr Kirkham.”

“Oh no, doctor, he is not a trained professional; I could not let him do that. “

“You can and will, Mrs Taylor, if you want to regain your equilibrium. I will speak to your husband in the fields.”

As we climbed into Dr Helliwell's gig, he smiled at me.

“A very effective treatment for hysteria, young man. It never fails, but I have never seen treatment administered orally before. Did you learn that at university?”

“No sir,” I smiled. “At my lodgings. My landlady was a widow, and she taught me a great deal. I enjoyed her tutelage.”

Dr Helliwell chuckled as he approached Mr Taylor. He walked him to the edge of the field, but I could hear Mr. Taylor gasp.

“Really, with my mouth? Using my tongue?”

“You will find it most pleasant, I assure you, Mr Taylor, and it is the only way to cool her fever. Your mouth will be a balm for her fevered soul. You can also use your hands to stimulate your wife; she will instruct you on what will feel best. We will be back in two days to check on progress. Your wife and yours.”

As we arrived on the outskirts of town, I turned to the elderly doctor.

“Is it wise to let him try the treatment himself? Are you not doing yourself out of business?”

“No, my boy, in my experience, I am merely setting us up for continued business, gratitude and loyalty. They will both be happy, and her hysteria will improve. Never you fear, boy, she will always need the hand or the tongue of a professional to examine her,” he grinned.

That was the first of my many adventures with the old doctor until I moved to London, when I decided those society maidens were in need of my expertise.