Author: Maximillian Excaliber
Learning The Hard Way (Edited V. 1.10)
The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the DSM, is used by mental health professionals as a reference guide when diagnosing and documenting mental disorders.
Included in the DSM is a condition known as Sexual Aversion Disorder. Sexual Aversion Disorder is commonly found in victims of rape, molestation or other forms of sexual abuse. This story does not contain any reference to rape, molestation or sexual abuse and none should be implied.
The following information is included to help you better understand the actions of one of the characters in this story.
From the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fourth Edition (DSM-IV):
302.79 Sexual Aversion Disorder
The essential feature of Sexual Aversion Disorder is the aversion to and active avoidance of genital sexual contact with a sexual partner. The disturbance must cause marked distress or interpersonal difficulty. The dysfunction is not better accounted for by another Axis I disorder (except another Sexual Dysfunction). The individual reports anxiety, fear, or disgust when confronted by a sexual opportunity with a partner. The aversion to contact maybe focused on a particular aspect of sexual experience (e.g., genital secretions, vaginal penetration). Some individuals experience generalized revulsion to all sexual stimuli, including kissing and touching. The intensity of the individual’s reactions when exposed to the aversive stimulus may range from moderate anxiety and lack of pleasure to extreme psychological distress.
Subtypes are provided to indicate onset (Lifelong versus Acquired), context (Generalized versus Situational), and etiological factors (Due to Psychological Factors, Due to Combined Factors) for Sexual Aversion Disorder.
Associated Features and Disorders
When confronted with a sexual situation, some individuals with severe Sexual Aversion Disorder may experience Panic Attacks with extreme anxiety, feelings of terror, faintness, nausea, palpitations, dizziness, and breathing difficulties. There may be markedly impaired interpersonal relations (e.g., marital dissatisfaction). Individuals may avoid sexual situations or potential sexual partners by covert strategies (e.g., going to sleep early, traveling, neglecting personal appearances, using substances, and being over-involved in work, social, or family activities).
And now, on with the story…
Chapter One – Lesson One: Lecture
I have to say, for some reason I couldn’t figure out at the time, my heart was racing and I was excited. If that wasn’t enough, somewhere in the back of my brain was a little voice asking me ‘Is she really serious? Maybe this is just a big a come-on?’
My name, in case I haven’t mentioned it, is Joel Johnson and the woman I was just referring to is Gwendolyn O’hara. I used to date her in back in high school, but I’ll tell you more about that later.
At the time she was looking right at me and I had to say something. I just didn’t know what.
“All right, what do you want to know?”
Seeming perplexed, Gwen replied, “I don’t know.” She thought a second and then asked, “How about we start with the sexual positions I don’t know?”
“Do you know any other positions than missionary?” I asked.
Her answer was short and simple, “No.”
“Well, first there’s missionary inverted. That’s where the woman is on top.”
I guess she was confused because Gwen asked, “You mean the woman gets between the man’s legs?”
“No, but I’ve seen that done before. I can’t say I remember the name for it though. Just imagine that you and whomever you are with both roll over while doing it in missionary position. When you stop rolling; you are on top and he is on the bottom; and, your legs are still on the outside of his.”
I could tell she didn’t fully understand me when she asked, “How does he move with me on top of him?”
“Usually, he doesn’t. You do.”
I could see her picturing it in her mind.
Unfortunately, so was I. And, the image was very arousing, as my then awaking manhood can testified.
After a few seconds, Gwen said, “I think I’ve got it. What’s next?”
“Continuing with woman on top positions, I guess the next would be cowgirl.”
She giggled. “How’s that one work?”
“Well, the man lies on his back; and, you kneel facing him in an almost sitting fashion. Then, using your legs, you move up and down sort of in a bouncing motion. Got it?”
Nodding, Gwen replied, “Yes. That sounds easy enough. What’s next?”
“Then there’s reverse cowgirl. It’s pretty much the same but you’re facing the other way.”
I could see her thinking again. “Okay, I got it.”
“Have you ever heard of doggie style?”
There was another “No.” for an answer.
“Well, doggie style is when the woman is kneeling on all fours and gets on his knees behind her. Then after he crawls between her legs, enters her from behind.”
She laughed, and then said, “Is there any barking involved?”
“Not usually; but, I have known more than one woman to howl in that position.”
Now it was her turn to say, “You’re kidding; aren’t you?”
“Not at all. It’s one of the best positions for stimulating a woman’s g-spot.”
Obviously intrigued, Gwen asked, “Her what?”
“G-spot, it’s a sensitive area about one to two inches inside the vagina. If you were kneeling and on all fours, as in doggie style, it would be on the bottom.”
There was a tone of excitement in her voice when Gwen next asked, “How is that more stimulating for me, ah, the woman?”
“If the angle is right, each time the man’s penis enters you it will rub against your g-spot.”
I could see a perplexed look on her face and could tell she didn’t understand.
“Being a man, I can’t explain it to you. I think you’re just going to have to try it and find out someday.”
Something told me my answer wasn’t good enough for her so I moved on.
“Next we have several of what I like to call variants of the missionary position.”
A look of surprise came appeared on her face followed by her saying, “Wait a minute, you mean there’s more than one way to do missionary? Patty never told me that.”
“He might not have known. And yes, there’s ‘The Deck Chair’, ‘The Deck Chair Folded’, ‘The Victory’ and the ‘Deep Stick’ to mention a few. They are all pretty much the same, except for the way you position your legs. In ‘The Deck Chair’, you pull your legs back until your shins are parallel with the bed or whatever. In ‘The Deck Chair Folded’, you put your legs under the man’s arms and he holds them in place. In “The Victory’, you hold your legs up and out wide in a ‘V’ shape; and in ‘The Deep Stick’, your legs are straight up and resting on his chest. Then there’s…”
She stopped me. “Wait a minute! You’ve lost me. I can’t keep them all straight in my head.”
“I got some videos I have back at the apartment that can show you how it’s done.” I suggested.
She responded, “What kind of videos would have that in them?”
“You know, pornographic videos?” I answered nonchalantly.
Her next question surprised me, “Are they going to tell me if I’m doing it wrong?”
“No. That they can’t do.” I replied. But we both knew the answer before I said it.
It was her turn to be nonchalant. “Then why don’t you just show them to me?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” I began.
Don’t get me wrong, under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t have been objecting. It’s just that it sounded too much like holding candy in front of a diabetic and then saying look but don’t touch. It didn’t occur to me at the time to ask myself who was the diabetic and who was holding the candy. I naturally assumed that I was the one with the ‘juicy fruit’ in my hands. I thought she was too vulnerable and if anything did happen, I would be taking advantage of her.
Before I could tell her why she added, “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re both adults here. All I want you to do is show me the various positions. It’s not as if we’re actually going to do anything. I know you don’t think of me that way.”
‘Not think of you that way! Gwen, you have no idea how wrong you are. Don’t you know you’re playing with fire here?’ I thought to myself.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch the videos? Despite what you might have heard, some of them are actually very educational.”
In a very soft tone, Gwen responded, “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. I’ll understand if you say no. It’s just that there are so many things I missed out on and I don’t want to do so any more just because I didn’t know what to do when the time comes.”
That last part got to me. It was too much like a plea for help for me to ignore… or so I thought.
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” I said reluctantly.
She breathed a sigh of relieve; and then, if that wasn’t out of nowhere changed the subject, “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to do but never have. Can you guess what that is?”
The truth is, by then, I was afraid to ask.
Since she was looking through the back door glass when as she said it. Something told me I knew what it was.
In reality, if I’d had any wits about me at all, I would have seen what was coming next.
Chapter Two — High School Friends
By now you must be wondering how it was that I found myself in that situation in the first place. In order for you to understand, I have to explain the events leading up to that night.
I met Gwendolyn thirty-three years ago. We went to high school together; and, like the young school boy I was, I fell hopelessly in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her.
Both our parents were Catholics and sent us to “Saint Augustine’s School for The Chaste and Pious Youth”. In case you couldn’t tell by the name, it’s a parochial school. We were sent there for entirely different reasons. My parents sent me there to keep me out of trouble; Gwen’s sent her there because they wanted her to keep the virginity and have the benefits of a ‘morally sound education’.
We only dated a few times and, because of the circumstance, I never had a chance to kiss her. I guess that’s to be expected when your date is being chaperoned by a member of the girl’s family. It was Gwen’s misfortune that she was forced to have her older brother Jimmy accompany her on dates.
I remember to this day arriving at her house for our first date. We were all standing there in the living room, Gwen, her bother Jimmy, and her parents. Jimmy was laughingly hysterically like a hyena while under the watchful eye of their parents; Gwen was forced to say to me very formally… “Joel Johnson, I want you to know that I’m a good catholic girl and I’m saving myself for my husband. Don’t try anything fresh with me or God will strike you down.” Then Jimmy added, “And after that I’ll break your arm!”
God it must have been humiliating for her!
Jimmy wasn’t really bad at all. He even was kind enough to remain a discrete distance from us. Still, I know it was embarrassingly uncomfortable for Gwen every time we dated. After the humiliation of our first day, I wondered if she’d ever see me again. To my elation, she did.
Things didn’t work out the way I expected them to though because before I had a chance to tell her how I felt about her, Gwen’s parents arranged for her to meet Patrick ‘Patty’ Doherty. Patty, in case you haven’t already guessed from his name, was the descendant of Irish emigrants. He too was devoutly Catholic. As strange as it seems now, even though it was an arranged courtship, Gwen fell for him like a ton of bricks and thus ended my dreams of ever being with her.
Anyway, after high school, Patty and Gwen were married. Also about the same time, Patty and I both went on to college. He went on to the local college and majored in education; and, Gwen assumed her new role of housewife. My parents wanted me to go to Norte Dame; but, after four years of parochial school, I was in no hurry to go to another one. So, I decided to stay in the south and work on a B.B.A. at the University of Georgia.
A little over three years later, and about the same time, Patty and I both graduated from college. Patty took a job as a high school teacher; and then, he and Gwen moved out of town and into the county. Except for church, I didn’t see her much after that.
Similar to Patty, I also got a job after college. The difference was I went to work as an entry level manager for one of the local banks.
One year after I graduated college, I got married. My first wife, Jenny, became pregnant. After which, she promptly ran off with the baby’s father.
A divorce and five years later, I married my second wife Mona. Ten years into that relationship, out of the blue, Mona started harping on me about how unfulfilled she felt as a woman. At the time, I thought it had something to do with the fact that she wanted to have a baby.
I tried for the next two years to give her one. As things went, after more failed attempts than I can count, Mona began accusing me of having an affair.
I wasn’t and told her so; she called me a liar; I told her she was behaving like a paranoid bitch; and, before I knew what had happened I was divorced again.
Personally, in retrospect, from the way she’d had been acting at the time I think Mona was going through ‘The Change of Life’ and wouldn’t have been happy even if I had managed to give her what she wanted. Then again, maybe she’d just tired of me? I don’t know. One thing I do know, when her lawyer hit me up for alimony, I wished I had been sleeping around on her. At least then she would have deserved the monthly payments I was stuck giving her!
But that’s enough about my failed marriages.
Meanwhile, about the same time my second divorce became final, I decided to take an early retirement. It was mid July.
That was also when Gwen quite unexpectedly, and no less tragically I might add, regained her freedom. Patty, from all accounts, went out of his way to electrocute himself. I’m not sure if he was suicide or just plain stupidity. But, I can tell you this… if there was a game show called “Dumbass Ways To Die”, hands down, he’d have to be the winning contestant… posthumously of course!
Now, before you start telling me how insensitive you think I’m being, let’s play a little game of our own. If you know any adults that are stupid enough to try and pry bread out of a toaster with butter knife while said toaster is still plugged into the wall, move to the other side of the room. If you don’t, stay where with me on this side of the room. Where are you standing? See my point?
I often wonder if the coroner debated whether to list the cause of death as “Suicide By Toaster” or “Terminal Stupidity”! In the final analysis, it really doesn’t matter. Dead is dead, stupid or not.
Looking back on it, the first day I meet him I remember thinking how poor old Patty was an odd sort of fellow; and, if you’d asked me then, I would have told you that I couldn’t put it into words. It doesn’t make much sense does it? Well, at the time, it didn’t to me either. Little did I know then how right I was.
Anyway, as you can imagine, or maybe you can’t yet, it wasn’t that much of a surprise to me when I found out he was dead under somewhat bizarre circumstances.
I was out of town visiting relatives when Patty checked out of this world and into the Hotel Hereafter. When I returned home, it was to find that Gwen had left a voicemail on my machine telling me about it. By the time I heard about his trip from our world to the next, the funeral was over, it was old news, and Patty himself had become just one more footnote in ‘The Cosmic Journal of The Bizarre’.
Even so, I immediately called her to express my condolences. After listening to her a few minutes, I could tell that she didn’t feel like talking about it. So, I decided not to pay her the customary ‘post mortem’ visit.
My heart ached for her; but, I’m sure it was nothing compared to the pain Gwen was going through. What else could I do? Sometimes, people need time to adjust to change; and, the loss of a loved one is the biggest change a person can go through.
Three days later, I was happy when I received a call from Gwen asking me if I could help her move some of “Patty’s’ things into storage. It was a sign she was moving on with her life.
I went to see her the next day. When Gwen opened the door, I stood there in shock! She was beautiful. Now I won’t lie to you and tell you that she looked the same way she did back in high school after thirty-three years. To tell the truth, she looked better. She had changed her hair color from brunette to what I believe is chestnut. Certainly, she did not younger, not at the age of forty-eight; but she definitely looked better.
You see back in high school Gwen was, and looked like, a young girl. She was a little bit too skinny, still had her braces on, and hadn’t filled out yet. But the woman that met me at the door was none of these. She was fully developed, had perfect teeth, wonderful skin tone and was curvy everywhere that it counts. Her arms and legs were taut and firm, yet still very feminine and sexy… all this in stark contrast to me!
Too many years sitting behind a desk hadn’t been as kind to me. I was about twenty pounds overweight and while not balding, beginning to develop gray on the roof. My friends tried to tell me it made me look distinguished, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Me, I thought it made me look old. I’ve never been what I considered a handsome man, but the women seem to think otherwise. To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t look bad; I’m just not as good looking as I’d like.
As we started working, it became obvious to me that Gwen wasn’t as ‘broken up’ by Patty’s death as I first thought.
Curiosity got the best of me and finally I got up the nerve to ask her about it. I remember we were taping up a box of Patty’s clothes at the time…
“Gwen, don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t seem as upset as I thought you’d be? Was being married to him that bad?”
As I pulled the roll of tape over the box top, she replied, “I’m feel ashamed to say it, but in a way, it’s a relief.”
“He wasn’t abusing you was he?” I asked.
She pressed the tape to the box and answered, “No, it was nothing like that. For the most part, he was a good provider and, in his way, he tried to be a good husband. It’s just that…”
Gwen seemed hesitate to speak and, for a few seconds, I thought she was going to cry. Then she looked at me and with tears in her eyes said, “If you don’t mind. I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
The subject was dropped and we spent the rest of the day moving Patty’s things to storage.
When we were done, she insisted on taking me to dinner for helping her. That night we got reacquainted, and even though we avoided the subject of Patty, caught up on old times.
You need to understand that, while Gwen and I had kept in touch with each other during the twenty-four year period following high school, we both did our best to maintain a respectful distance. I think we both secretly knew that we still harbored feeling for each other; but, we felt we owed it to our spouses to do the right thing.
However, with Mona out of the picture and Patty gone, we could be friends again.
Since we both had plenty of free time on our hands, rather than be alone, we started going places together. Sometimes we’d go shopping, other times it would be an errand. It wasn’t really dating, more like socializing with a friend. But, whatever you want to call it, one thing was sure, we were definitely becoming closer.
Chapter Three — The Party
Mona ended up getting the house in my second divorce, too bad she found out later that the foundation was cracking from the sink hole under the house.
I was forced to move into a cheesy one-room ‘efficiency’ apartment. It was tiny, the rent was too high and I hated it! So, when I retired, one of the first things I did was buy a house. I was lucky enough to find one, with a pool, at a price I was willing to pay. The timing couldn’t have been better.
It was also my good fortune that the closing conveniently occurred in the last week of September.
Summer was ending and, even though I had just started moving in, I decided to throw a house warming-pool party before the cold weather set in. I couldn’t have chosen a better time; the forecast had called for unseasonably warm temperatures that week and that was perfect for a pool party.
I made up a list of people to invite. At the top of the list was Gwen and below her were the names of eight of my closest friends. Once it was completed, I began inviting them over.
I was elated when Gwen accepted my invitation and couldn’t wait to see her.
The second name on the list was Bobbie Rucker.
I called her and she answered the phone…
“Hey Joey, what’s up?” She said cheerfully.
I asked casually, “Got any plans this Saturday?”
I used to work with Bobbie and we had a ‘special’ relationship that went well beyond the workplace. It also continued even after I retired.
“Nope, I’m totally free. Why, do you want me to move in or are you just horny?” Now do you understand what I meant by ‘special’?
Somberly, I told her, “Wet ink, remember?” I was referring to my most recent divorce.
“I’m having a party. Want to come?”
“Is there going to be anyone eligible there or should I bring a date?” She asked.
Jokingly, I replied, “Well, that depends. What are you dating this week, men or women?”
“Men!” Bobbie exclaimed, “Aren’t you ever going to let me forget about Vegas?”
Laughing, I said, “Hey, I’m not the one who got drunk and picked up a stripper. “
“How was I supposed to know ‘he’ was a woman in drag?” She asked defensively. “Besides, you’re just mad because her dick was bigger than yours!”
I reminded her, “Yeah, but at least mine is real! And while we’re on the subject, I don’t remember you complaining that night while I was fucking you.”
“Was that you inside me at the time? No wonder I can’t recall what happened. Then again, that might be because there wasn’t much to remember.”
I retorted, “What was it you said? Oh, now I remember. Tell me if I got it right. I think it was… ‘OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!’ Does that sound familiar?”
“Very funny!” Bobbie said giggling.
Then I asked, “But seriously though, think you can make it?”
She said she would come; and, after a few minutes of chit-chat, I told her that the party was to begin at 12:00 noon. Then we both hung up and I continued going down the list. Everyone agreed to come.
I spent most of that week moving most of my stuff from my apartment to the house. By the time Thursday arrived, I had moved my bedroom furniture, the things in the kitchen, and the stuff from the bathroom to the house. The only things still at my apartment were my clothes, everything in the living room, and a few personal care items.
That Friday, after I cleaned the grill, I went to the store and spent about two hundred and fifty dollars on booze and party favors. That night, I prepared my entrees and desserts for the next day.
Finally it was Saturday morning.
Dressed in my tackiest beach shirt, green shorts and a pair of brown leather sandals, I went in the back yard and began heating the grill. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
While the grill was warming up, I left a sign on the front door telling everybody that the party was in the back.
By 11:00, my second batch of steaks was almost ready when I heard the sound of the gate hinge squeaking. ‘Didn’t I tell everyone it was at 12:00?’ I thought to myself as I looked in the direction of the gate.
When I saw it was Gwen my jaw almost fell completely open.
She was wearing black crisscross knit dress whose deep v-neck displayed magnificently her voluptuous cleavage. And, its clinging waist accented her figure so perfectly that you would have sworn the dress had been custom tailored for her. On her feet she wore a pair of faux leather black sling back sandals. They were casual but at the same time elegant; and, the entire ensemble made her look stunning.
“Hey” I said to her, “The party doesn’t start until 12:00. What are you doing here so early?”
While waiting for her answer, one at a time, I began removing the steaks from the grill.
Setting the bag down, Gwen replied cheerfully, “I thought I would break with protocol and come early in case you needed any help. That smells great, by the way.”
“Thanks; and thanks for showing up early but I’ve got everything in control.” I replied. Then I thought about it and said, “You know, if I were you, I’d enjoy the pool while I could before everyone gets here.” I offered.
It must have been a good idea, because Gwen accepted it saying, “I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
I went back to cooking; and, when I looked up, it was to see Gwen reach down with both hands and grab the bottom of her skirt. As I began throwing hamburgers on the grill, I watched her take off her dress and place it in her bag. When she did and I saw what she’d been wearing under her dress, I had to stop long enough to enjoy the view. You see, Gwen had worn a surprising immodest and very sensual, white ‘Carlita Bikini’.
Now for those of you who don’t know what a ‘Carlita Bikini’ is, I’ll tell you.
As its name implies, a ‘Carlita Bikini’ is a two-piece bikini style bathing suit. The top, while strapless, ties in the back; and, there is a keyhole tie at the bust. There are also ruffles running along the bust line. The bottom sits low on the waist and scoops downward in the front. The waist-line and leg openings are trimmed with more ruffles; and, the whole thing, both bottom and top are made of stretchy gauze material. It’s skin tight and very sexy.
Like any self-respecting male chauvinist pig, I responded primitively by whistling my appreciation.
“Gwen, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” I told her truthfully.
She blushed and said disbelievingly, “Liar.” then asked, “Where’s the hose?”
I pointed to the garden hose attached to the spigot on the back of the house. “The water’s already on.” I said and then flipped my hamburgers.
Casually, Gwen strolled over to the hose and picked it up with her left hand. Aiming the nozzle downwards, she held it over her head and pulled the trigger.
“EHHHH!” She screamed as the cold water came pouring suddenly down on her.
I laughed. Next I yelled and then looked in her direction, “Cold?”
“What do you think?” Gwen asked playfully then hit me with a spray of cold water. The grill lid was closed, not that the water could have spoiled the meat anyway.
For the next hour, while she swam, I cooked. Then, starting at about 12:15, fashionably late the other guest began arriving.
They ate; they drank; then they drank some more.
I had been so busy playing host that it didn’t even occur to me until four hours later that I really hadn’t said more than two words to Gwen since she’d arrived. Since I didn’t want Gwen to feel as if I was ignoring her, I searched the house until I tracked her down. When I found her she was in the kitchen with Bobbie. They were talking…
“You’re kidding! Not even once?” Bobbie exclaimed in apparently disbelief. She was sipping on a strawberry daiquiri and her speech was slightly slurred. I could tell that she wasn’t drunk but she was most definitely not feeling any pain either!
I didn’t know what they were talking about but I did hear Gwen say to her, “No, never! Patty didn’t believe in it. He said it was a sin.
“Do you believe that?” Bobbie asked.
Gwen told her frankly, “No. I’ve always wanted to try it myself.”
“Girl, let me tell you, until you do you’ll never know what you’ve been missing!” Bobbie said enthusiastically.
Embarrassed, Gwen said insistently, “There’s only one person I want to show me how it’s done.”
“He’ll do it.”
Hesitantly, Gwen asked, “You really think so?”
Bobbie must have seen me approaching because just then she called to me…
“Girl talk, Joey. Come back later!” It was more of an order than a request.
Feeling somewhat spurned, I turned and headed in the other direction. As I did, I heard Bobbie’s voice saying to Gwen…
“Okay, here’s what you do…”
Since it seemed like totally innocuous talk to me, I forgot the whole conversation. I would be reminded of it later.
It had become dark outside and everyone except Gwen was gone. She had stayed behind to help me clean up.
I talked Bobbie into accepting a ride from Jerry, another friend of mine. To her credit, Bobbie had enough sense to know not to drive. The way Bobbie was making goo-goo eyes at Jerry told me that, unless he did something really stupid, his car wouldn’t be the only thing she rode that night.
Gwen and I collected the various, dishes, glasses and utensils scattered throughout the house; and, after we loaded up the dishwasher, we both I sat down at the kitchen table to relax. Except for the sound of the dishwasher, everything was quiet for several long seconds.
Gwen broke the silence. “Joey, can I talk to you about something personal?”
“Do I need to change mouthwashes?” I asked jokingly.
But there was a serious look on her face when she replied, “No. It’s not about you. It’s about me.”
“Sure; that’s what friends are for.”
Her expression unchanged, Gwen said, “It’s very personal and might take a while?”
“Take your time. It’s not like I have to go to work in the morning.”
Gwen began, there was trace of nervousness in her voice, “Joey, my sex life with Patty was so dissatisfying that sometimes I felt like becoming a nun.”
The look on her face told me wasn’t joking.
She paused hesitantly and then asked, “Do you remember back in high school my telling you that I was saving myself for when I got married.”
“Oh yes. You were very clear about that at the time!” I must have been a little too quick with my answer because she smiled.
Gwen continued, “I really was a virgin at the time and stayed that way right up until my wedding night…. boy was that a disappointment.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first woman who’s said that.” I said consolingly.
She politely ignored me and continued. “Like most girls that age, I thought my marriage would be a caring, loving relationship, full of romance and passion. It wasn’t!”
“I thought Patty loved you?”
Disappointment in her voice, Gwen replied, “Love? Patty didn’t love me any more than I loved him.”
“But I thought…” I began.
She broke me off, “Let me guess, he was perfect for me because we both were devoted to the church?”
“You mean he wasn’t? Then why did you choose to marry him?”
Angrily, Gwen replied, “I didn’t choose to marry him; my parents made the choice for me. I just went along with it.”
“Why didn’t you say no?”
In an unemotional voice Gwen said, “Lots of reasons, but mostly because I didn’t have the courage to stand up to my parents. And if you’re wondering how it was I didn’t know what he was really like, think back to when you and I were dating. Remember Jimmy, our chaperone?”
I saw her point.
“So was he really as devoted to the church as everyone thought he was? Or, was that just a facade?”
Coldly Gwen replied, “Oh, he was. And he made sure that I was too. I had to do everything according to scriptures… and I do mean everything!”
“Well, I knew you went to church a lot.”
Sarcastically, Gwen said, “I’m not talking about church. I’m talking about everything… including our sex life.”
“That boring was it?” I asked.
With a touch of indignation, Gwen replied, “Boring? It was practically non-existent! He even had me convinced that he truly believed that sex was only for procreation. When I asked him what that meant he replied, ‘As Good Catholics we can do it once a month, in the ‘church approved’ missionary position, and then only to conceive a child.”
“Once a month? What kind of bullshit is that? And, what kind of man wants to make love to his wife once a month? It doesn’t make any sense, Patty wasn’t that stupid, he went to college the same as I did; he had to know that the odds of you getting pregnant would have to be at least over a million to one.”
With the same indignant tone in her voice, Gwen said informatively, “You assume that he wanted to make love with me. I’ll clear that up for you in a moment. And you’re right; Patty wasn’t stupid, far from it in fact. As to my getting pregnant, that didn’t matter. He made sure that would never happen.”
She floored me. “He tricked me into taking birth control pills.
“Huh? That’s completely contrary to what he told you.”
She began, “I know. In order to explain that to you, the first thing you need to know is that Patty had a few mental problems. Did you know he was an obsessive compulsive?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Gwen continued, “Well he was and one of the things he obsessed about was his health. You should see the cleaning products I have at the house. I have something for everything. Why, I think I even got something to get rid of sunspots.”
I laughed. It was good to know she still had a sense of humor.
She continued, “You know he was obsessed with religion. Then there was the one with his car, and lastly, but not least, his Journals of Erotic Fantasies. I’m just hitting the major ones by the way.”
“A lot of men obsess over their cars. It’s a guy thing.” I explained.
Then she asked, “How many men do you know spend three hours a day cleaning their cars?”
But she wasn’t finished, “Every day, whether it’s raining or not?”
“You’ve got me there. Still, that’s not too bad is it?”
Gwen, answered, “I didn’t think so either. But then, as soon as we were married, I found out how obsessive he was about his health. So, when he insisted that I start working out and taking vitamins, I naturally assumed that my health had become another thing for him to obsess over. I was wrong. Oh, Patty was obsessed alright, but not about my health, he was obsessed with making sure that I never got pregnant.”
“I’m missing something here.” I told her; and I was.
At first, her answer seemed vague, “Well, it’s like this… women who work out a lot have been known to go long stretches of time without having a period. The way my doctor explained it to me, it has something to do with the way the body changes hormone production when we exercise heavily. And believe me, when I say I worked out a lot, I mean I worked out A LOT! It was one of the ways I dealt with my many frustrations.”
‘Sexual being one of them?’ I asked mentally.
Not being psychic, Gwen didn’t hear me. “I didn’t realize it then, but even though I was working out like an Olympic athlete in training, I never missed my period… not once! And believe me, I should have.”
There was no way that could have happened unless…
“Wait a minute! Are you saying he gave you birth control pills and told you they were vitamins?”
I detected a bit of anger in her voice, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But why?” She was visibly agitated and I was begging to wonder if I should change the subject. So, I asked, “You sure you really want to talk about this?”
She replied, “I need to.”
After taking a deep breath, Gwen continued, “After four years of living with him, I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I started going to counseling. It was in counseling that I began to realize just how strange our relationship really was. For years I did everything I could think of to get him to go with me he always refused. Finally, ten years into our marriage, he relented.”
“What brought about the sudden change in attitude? For that matter, why didn’t you leave him then? Nobody would have blamed you.”
I kind of expected her answer, “Since he wasn’t beating me or running around on me, I didn’t feel justified in leaving him.”
“There are other forms of abuse you know?”
She acknowledged, “Yes, but I felt I had a sacred responsibly to make things work so I stayed with him. Then there was the reason he went to counseling in the first place; his mother had just died and I knew he was having trouble dealing with it. By then, I knew he was mentally ill and couldn’t help himself. What I didn’t know was how ill he really was.”
“What do you mean he couldn’t help himself? What could possibly make a man give his wife birth control pills and not want to have sex with her?” Then a bizarre thought came into mine mind and I asked, “Wait a minute; Patty wasn’t gay was he?”
But it wasn’t that, “No Joey, it wasn’t that Patty didn’t want to have sex with women; it’s that Patty was repulsed by female genitalia!”
“That’s crazy! How can anyone want to have sex but not stand the sight of the object of their desires? Everyone wants to have sex. Most men want to have sex with women; some men want to have sex with other men; then there are those that want to have sex with both. Hell, there are even a few really weird ones that want to have sex with farm animals. Whatever their taste, or lack of taste is, they all want to have sex. But I’ve never heard of anyone who wanted something but couldn’t bear to look at it.”
Once she explained it, in a screwed up way, what she said make sense… even if it was in a strangely fucked up way. “Patty wasn’t like everyone else. He suffered from a Sexual Aversion Disorder. That’s why he didn’t want to make love to me. It’s also why he gave me the birth control pills without telling me. He had trouble dealing with it himself and was deathly afraid if we had a child, that child would be cursed with his affliction. Patty was still a human being and like everyone else had desires. He just wasn’t able to act on them. That’s where the journals came in. Even though it pained him to touch a woman, didn’t mean he never fantasized about it. He did, in very vivid and explicit detail! I know because he wrote every single one of them down in his journals.”
“How did you find out about them? Did he show them to you or something?”
She laughed sarcastically, “Oh no! He’d never have done that. I found his journals while cleaning out his office after he died. I discovered them locked in the office closet. I remember one of his fantasies involved a nun at school, two of my female classmates, and wooden paddle and a bicycle pump.”
“That’s really fucked up!”
She didn’t respond.
But none of which explained why it was she’d never talked to anyone about sex. Neither did it explain why Gwen was telling me all this? It’s not the kind of conversation a man usually expects to have with a woman he’s not sleeping with. For a moment the thought entered into my mind that Gwen was going to ask me to have sex with her. Then I realized how utterly preposterous it was and thought no more about it. So I asked the next logical question…
“When you were in high school, didn’t you and your girlfriends talk about sex?”
She replied, “With the Holy Penguins always watching us all the time?” ‘Holy Penguins’ was our little nickname for the nuns and priests at the school. All were overweight and most of them waddled when they walked. As you can imagine, dressed in black and white, they looked like penguins.
“I see your point.” I told her. Then I asked, “What about on the school bus?”
Gwen shook her head. “And take the chance that anyone could be listening?
“Phone?” I queried.
But she had an answer for that too, “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone in my room when I was a teenager. Besides, even if I had, that last thing I would have wanted was for my parents to pick up the receiver and hear what I was talking about.”
“What about after you got married; didn’t you have any friends you could talk to?”
Her answer was, “All my friends were his friends. And in his circles, a married woman did not talk about her marital relations with anyone. “
She replied, “He didn’t want me thinking about sex for fear I might demand more from him; so, he wouldn’t allow anything remotely sexual in the house… except his journals, of course.”
Not sure what Gwen was going to say next, I looked at her expectantly.
Somberly, she lowered her head and said, “You must be wondering why I decided to tell you this.” She paused. “What it all boils down to is this: After twenty-four years of marriage, I know less about sex than most teenagers dating nowadays. What I need is for someone to tell me all the things about sex I don’t know.”
Wait a minute! Maybe I’m misunderstood her. Did Gwen just ask me to explain the facts of life to her?
Any doubt I had vanished when next she said, “Joey, if you would, I’d like you to do it?”
I looked at Gwen, studying her for a very long time trying to make up my mind if she were serious. Something about the expression on her face told me she was.
“Gwen, that’s not some birds and the bees talk you asking for. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk to a woman about this? I could get Bobbie to…”
She cut me off, “I don’t know Bobbie well enough to talk to her about this. Besides, what if she told someone? I’d never live it down! You’re the only real friend I have. I don’t trust anyone else.”
“Listen, I’m not saying no; but, have you considered reading a book on the subject? There are plenty of them out there and most of them have illustrations in them; we could get you a few?” I suggested.
But Gwen rejected the idea saying, “I considered reading a book, but a book can’t answer questions the way a real person can.”
Then she looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes of hers and said to me, “Please.”
I hate it when a woman begs. It makes me all mushy inside.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want. Then I’ll do it.” As I said it, I wondered if I’d just made a big mistake?
Chapter Four — The Late Night Swim
“Skinny dip?” I asked hesitantly, hoping desperately that I wasn’t wrong. No! Not for the reason you’re thinking. Although, the idea of seeing her naked had been going thought my mind every since she’d peeled off that dress of her and I saw her in that Carlito Bikini. It just seemed obvious to be that, having led the sheltered life that she had, it might be on her list of things to try.
Astonished, Gwen turned to me and asked, “How did you know?”
“I wasn’t sure until I saw until you looked at the pool.”
Cautiously, Gwen inquired, “You’re not shocked?”
“Not really. It’s something everyone wants to try at least once.” I paused and then asked, “Mind if I share a secret with you?”
She replied, “Go ahead, I shared enough of mine with you. Besides, I’ve always wondered what’s going on in the mind of yours.”
“Did you notice how high the fence in the back yard is?”
She nodded, “It looks brand new; is it?”
“Yes; and it’s that high for a reason. ” The expression on her face changed and I thought she was beginning to get the picture. Just in case she didn’t I explained, “I don’t like wearing a swimsuit. I don’t even own one!” Gwen gazed longingly at the water and I said, “Go ahead, help yourself. I won’t even look.”
Her response wasn’t quite what I expected, “And leave me out there all by myself. I don’t think so! Either someone swims with me or I don’t swim at all. I don’t know anything about this neighborhood.”
“But I just told you I don’t even have a suit to put on.” I reminded her.
Giggling, Gwen said, “Don’t worry, you can borrow mine if you’d like.”
And then all too vivid mental image of me dressed in her biking appeared suddenly before me. Making it disappear as fast as I could, I said…
“No thanks, I think it looks better on you.”
Impatiently, Gwen asked, “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Both.” I told her causing a look of confusion to appear on her face. I explained, “Yes, I’ll go swimming with you; and, no, I’m not going to put on your swim suit.” And then, without further ado, she headed for the door with me trailing not far behind.
Seconds later we were both at poolside. I took off my shirt and began removing my shorts. But, before I had a chance to get them completely off, she jumped in sending a giant wave of water in my direction and soaking me, clothes and all, in the process. I was stepping out of my shorts at the time.
When I realized that Gwen hadn’t removed her bikini, I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not.
“Hey, I thought you said we were going to…” I began. Then splat! The top of her bathing suit hit me square in the face. Quickly, I grabbed them up and threw them back at her, missing her in the process. Splat again! This time it was the bottoms… again square in the face.
“It’s not safe out here!” I exclaimed and then dived for the relative safety of the water.
Trying to keep a safe distance, I paddled around a bit and tried not to stare at the way her breasts buoyantly bobbed in the water. Gwen did the same.
As she treaded water, Gwen said, “You know, I could get used to this. It’s very relaxing. I see why you like it so much.”
It was a peaceful moment and I was enjoying it as much as she was. I decided not to respond for fear of spoiling it.
Believe it or not, we swam for about the next half hour and nothing happened. When it started to get chilly outside, she got out of the pool and grabbed towel so she could dry off. That’s when I got my first good look at her. Taking the que from her, I got out of the water myself. I was going to put back on my shirt and pants until I realized that they were thoroughly soaked and would have to be dried. I looked at Gwen, she was holding her bikini, one piece in each hand. It too was just as soaked. Then she reached down for her dress, it was also soaking wet.
We both looked over at the table where I had placed the towels for the guest to use. The table was bare and when we looked around, it became apparent that every towel was soiled.
Seemingly unconcerned, Gwen asked, “Is your washer and dryer hooked up yet?”
“Actually, it is.” I said proudly.
Cautiously, she inquired, “Got any laundry detergent?”
“As a matter of fact, believe it or not, I do. The old owners left some behind.”
As soon as she heard my response Gwen picked up our clothes and put them in her bag, and in a delightfully said, “Mind if I do some laundry?”
“No, not at all.” I replied. To which she responded, “Great, for a minute there, it looked as if I was going to have to drive home wearing this wet bikini. The way the temperature’s dropping, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. But, then when I noticed how erect her nipples were and realized she was right.
Gwen suggested, “Why don’t we knock out the towels at the same time?”
I looked away suddenly and secretively hoped she hadn’t caught me looking. Then I said…
“I can do those later.”
Her response was, “I want to; anyway, you might need them later.”
And so, we gathered up our clothes and all the towels and took them into the laundry room. I was kind of surprised when she began loading the towels into the washer first; but, I said nothing about it.
Once the washing machine was running, she said to me, “Let’s head into the living room where there’s plenty of room; shall we?”
And so, less than a minute later, there we were sitting in the living room naked as jaybirds.
She was sitting on my bear skin rug Indian style with her legs crossed; and I was sitting about six feet away with my back against the fireplace. I remember the room seemed eerily quiet at the time.
The whole thing seemed very surreal. That’s what it was… surreal! I mean think about it. I was a forty-eight year old adult male who had just asked by a forty-eight year old adult female to educate her on the intimacies of sex. Have you ever heard of such a thing?
“Don’t you want to wait until our things come out of the dryer?” I asked.
She queried in response, “Why, don’t you trust me?”
‘Trust you? It’s not you I’m worried about, I’m not sure I trust myself!’ I yelled inside my head. That’s not what I said though.
“No; I just thought you’d be more comfortable if you had something on?” I replied somewhat truthfully.
But Gwen just smiled and answered, “I’m quite comfortable this way; besides, that dress I wore over here is quite expensive; even if it were dry, I wouldn’t want to take a chance on tearing it.”
I noticed she didn’t mention the Carlita Bikini she had been wearing earlier; perhaps it was just an oversight?
I decided one last time to try and be chivalrous and talk her out of it.
“Gwen honey, aren’t you even a little bit concerned that I might take advantage of you?”
Confidently she replied, “If I thought that, I wouldn’t asked you in the first place.”
And I thought to myself, ‘I wish I was as confident as you are honey.’
But Gwen had made up her mind and really put me on the spot when she said to me, “I think we are both capable of controlling ourselves, don’t you?”
At that point I had two choices. One was to say ‘no’, which is what I was leaning towards doing, and could either have her think that I had no self-control or that I didn’t think that she did. In the later case, she’d be insulted. The other was to say ‘yes’, which, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure of myself. As I saw it, answering ‘no’ was a lose-lose situation all the way around; and, answering ‘yes’ was one hell of a gamble. If she were wrong and we ended up having sex while she was most vulnerable, she might regret it later and possibly be the end of our friendship!
‘Fuck!’ I thought to myself in frustration. ‘I guess I’ve gone too far now to turn back now.’ And then I heard my voice say, “Alright, where do you want to start?”
Chapter Five – Lesson Two: Positions
And that’s how Gwen and I ended up naked in my living room.
Laughing, Gwen suggested, “On the rug?”
“I meant what position smart-ass?”
Giggling, Gwen suggested, “Why don’t we begin with the other variations on missionary you told me about? What was that first one you mentioned, ‘The Deck Chair’? Tell me how that goes again?”
Then, before I had a chance to say anything, Gwen laid flat on her back and asked, “Now what?”
“The woman opens her legs, pulls them backwards until her shins are parallel to whatever she’s laying on and holds them there. Then, the man crawls between her legs.” I said as unemotionally as I could. And as I did, just the thought of Gwen doing in that position started the blood rushing to my prick.
Then, without any hesitation at all, did exactly that. Sure enough, as soon as she pulled her legs backwards and spread her legs giving me the most splendid view of her sex. As I sat there trying hard not to look at it, and also trying not to get hard as I did, Gwen asked, “Like this?”
“Yup.” I gulped, “I’d say you got it right the first time!”
I felt flush and thought, ‘God don’t tell me I’m blushing! For crying out loud! I’m a forty-eight year old man. It’s not like I’ve never seen a naked woman before! It’s just that I’d never seen Gwen naked before!’
She said something. What was it? Oh yes, now I remember. “Where is the man again?”
‘About to have the best time of his life?’ Whispered the voice inside my head.
As I felt the blood surging in my dick, the words ‘This is going to be harder than I thought!’ went through my mind. Talk about your bad choice of words? It was almost comical; and, had my mind not been on other things at the time, I probably would have laughed at the obvious pun. But, as you can imagine, it was; and, I didn’t.
“Between your legs.” I said abruptly thinking that my answer was good enough.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t and she said in a chastising tone. “You’re supposed to be showing me; remember?”
“You know; I’m going to have to touch you in some of these positions?”
Impatiently, she informed me, “I assumed as much.”
I’m not quite sure Gwen knew what I meant by ‘touch’. If she didn’t, she was about to find out real fast.
I was about six inches away and stopped. When I saw her looking at me expectantly, I slowly crawled forward and into position. I could see she was wet but I couldn’t make up my mind whether it was from just having gotten out of the pool or some other more sensual reason.
The moment our sexes touched she startled a little and I asked…
“Is everything alright? Are you sure you want to do this?”
My semi-flaccid manhood was pushing directly against her ‘taint’.
Undeterred, Gwen replied, “Everything’s fine. It just takes a little getting used to. Then, she leaned, first to the left and then to the right. It appeared to me that she was studying the placement of my legs. When she was finished, Gwen said to me. “I take it the man moves in the same way as in plain old missionary?”
“If by ‘the same way’ you mean thrusting his hips forward, yes.” I responded.
Eager to learn, Gwen asked, “Can the woman move or does the man do all the work?”
“She can if she wants to by either raising and lowering her butt and thrusting upwards or by rocking her hips backwards and forwards.” I said informatively. But, in my mind, I was thinking how much I wanted to show her exactly how it was done.
To my surprise, without saying a word, Gwen began thrusting her buttocks upwards as I had described and said, “Like this?”
As she did, her sex slid the full length of my then semi-erect pleasure pole. It was very erotic and stimulating.
“Yes!” I said and wondered to myself if Gwen really had any idea what she was doing.
As soon as I answered her, Gwen began rocking her ass gently and, at the same time pulling her legs back in the direction of her breasts. This resulted in a massaging motion that was even more pleasurable than before.
After I allowed myself to enjoy it for a few seconds, I said to her…
“You’ve got it all right. Maybe we better move on?” I suggested. Luckily for me, she didn’t ask why. And, it’s a good thing because there was no way I was about to tell her how enjoyable her movements really were.
“From here we can move into ‘The Victory’.” I told her.
Curiously, she asked, “Not ‘The Deck Chair Folded?”
“We could.” I conceded. “But all you have to do now is bend your knees until your legs are straight while I bring my knees a little closer to each other and we’ll be in ‘The Victory’.”
Well, that’s exactly what we did. But, no sooner were we in position than Gwen started pushing her pelvis against me again and said, “Am I doing it right?”
And, as if he had a mind of his own, ‘Mr. Woody’ kept getting bigger and bigger. It was very distracting.
“Oh yes, you’re doing it just right.” I said truthfully; and, I thought to myself, ‘Boy are you doing it right!’
Gwen massaged me a few more seconds and then asked, “How do we switch to “The Deck Chair Folded’ from here?”
As the blood continued rushing into my penis, I answered…
“I’ll move my arms out of the way and then you rest your calves on my shoulders. When you do, I’ll bring my knees a little closer together for leverage.”
Two seconds later, when we were in ‘The Desk Chair Folded’ position Gwen asked again, “The man moves the same way?”
“Uh huh.” I replied.
Then Gwen commented, “It doesn’t seem as if there’s much room for the woman to move in this position. About the only thing I can think of to do is this…” and then, as she used her ankles for leverage, Gwen began rolling her ass upwards. Each time she did, my rod rode atop the furrow of her womanhood like a shuttle sliding in a grove.
It wasn’t too many repetitions later she had me fully erect. I was astounded that, while I was somewhat embarrassed, Gwen didn’t seem to be at all. Could it be that she was enjoying herself and knew what she was doing? Should I say something to her about it? While I was trying to decide, without stopping Gwen asked, “I still don’t see how my moving is supposed to make things more enjoyable. Maybe we should move on to another position. Why don’t we try ‘Cowgirl’?”
But I was too busy enjoying myself to pay her any attention.
“Huh?” I asked as I tried to snap out of it.
She smiled and paraphrased herself, “Wasn’t the next one called ‘Cowgirl’? How do we do that?”
At that moment, I’d have told her anything as long as she kept dry fucking me the way she was.
“You’ll have to move and let me be on the bottom for that one.” I said informatively and began backing away from her.
As soon I was out of the way Gwen rolled over making room for me to lay down in her place.
I had barely gotten into position when I heard her saying, “Wow! So that’s what one looks like!”
“Excuse me?” Then it sunk in what she’d said and I found myself asking, “You mean you’ve never see one before?” Then I got the ‘excited’ part of what she’d said and know I must have turned red in the face.
Without hesitation, Gwen confided, “No, not really. I asked Patty to show me his but he refused. I even tried sneaking into the bathroom only several occasions while he was showering only to find the door that each time the door to his bath room was locked.”
“What about when you two made love, surely you saw it then.”
Given the circumstances, her answer made perfect sense. “Saw it? I wish I had; then, I would know for sure what had been going inside me all those years.”
Given the circumstances, her answer made perfect sense. “On those few occasions he came into my bedroom and we did it, he always made sure the lights were off. Then, once he was finished, he’d get up, go to his to his bathroom, and I hear the shower running for at least an hour. Since we slept in separate bedrooms, I wouldn’t see him again until breakfast the next morning.
After he died, I found some sort weird device locked in a box in his closet. I had to break it open to find out what was inside. When I did, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was some kind of a harness. Attached to it was a soft rubber penis shaped device that was about three inches long.
The thought occurred to me, ‘My God! It’s possible that she’s never actually been with a man!’
Her voice interrupted my thoughts. “Tell me about it please.”
“From how you described it, I’m reasonably sure it was a strap-on.” I explained.
With an exasperated look on her face, Gwen said, “No. I mean tell me about sex.”
A lot of things went through my mind at that time… pity for her, fascination with her story, and, a deeper sense of how things might have been different had I pursed her more back in high school. I raised myself up on my elbows and said…
“Where do you want me to start?”
She thought a second and then asked, “Tell me as much as you can. For example, what’s the difference between one that’s been circumcised and one that’s not and which do you have?”
“I may have one but I certainly no expert. Still, I’ll tell you what I know.”
I probably shouldn’t have but I chuckled a little causing her to frown.
“Don’t worry, you’re not the first woman to ask me that question.” It seemed to make her feel better. I continued, “Mine is circumcised. That means that the foreskin was removed. It used to cover most of the glands here. They’re very sensitive, by the way.” I pointed to the head of my cock.
She had moved into a sitting position facing me. “I remember reading something about it in the bible but never did understand what it was talking about. Did it hurt?”
“Probably, I really don’t know, I was a baby at the time.” Trying my best to do as she asked, I said, “You see this here?” I pointed towards the fleshy ring surrounding the base of the glands. “That’s the ‘Corona’ or more commonly known as the crown. It’s another sensitive area.” As I moved my finger parallel, up and down, the strip of flesh on the underside of my penis running from crown to the base of my cock, I said to Gwen, “Lastly, this is the ‘Frenulum’ also known as the ‘Frenum’. It too is very sensitive. Any questions?”
I could tell she was thinking and hoped I was wrong. When she asked, “Why is it so much bigger then it was by the pool?”
Yup! That was it! That’s what I was afraid she’d ask!
I sat there in silence for a few seconds and tried to figure out what to say. I could have said, ‘Well, because you’re hotter than hell and all I’ve thought about ever since you told me you were free again was how much fun we could have together.’ But I didn’t. Or, maybe I could say, ‘Let me rub your clit a few minutes and see what happens to it; then you’ll know!’ But I didn’t say that either. Here’s what I did say…
“It’s how a man’s body responds when he’s stimulated.” Notice that I neglected to mention anything about how a man can get turned on just looking at a woman?
Just when I thought I was safe, Gwen asked, “Then it’s not because you find me appealing?”
There was just the faintest hint of disappointment in her voice as she said it.
‘Oh shit! Now what am I going to say?’ I thought. Which was immediately followed by, ‘How did I get myself into this again?’ Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard that little voice answering, ‘Because you were thinking with the wrong head again stupid! If you weren’t you would have seen this coming a mile away. Try and talk your way out of that one dumb-ass.’
I really hate that guy when he’s right!
Ignoring him, I came up with what I thought was a safe answer.
“It’s possible.” I said evasively without denying it.
Gwen looked at me coyly. It was as if she were trying to make up her mind to say something. Finally she asked, “What do you know about the female anatomy?”
I thought to myself, ‘I wonder what she say if I told her that I know enough to make her scream in pleasure until she begged for mercy!’
“I know that every woman I’ve meet is unique in her own way and each one responds differently from the others.”
I knew her next question would be, “How’s that?” and it was.
“It’s one of the things that men and women have in common. We all have our likes and dislikes. Maybe that’s part of the fun we have when we get together… finding out what turns the other one on.”
By then my erection was beginning to deflate and I was only about half erect. She glanced down at it momentarily and then said, “Let’s get back to what we were doing. It’s become obvious to me that I’ve still got a lot to learn.”
Then, without saying another word, she carefully crawled on top of me into what was actually in a ‘reverse missionary’ position. Her face was mere inches away from mine and the temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming. I looked her in the eyes and said softly…
“All you have to do is sit up and kind of move your hips up and down the same way you would if you were ridding rocking horse.”
She did. And for a few seconds, I lay there and watched her breasts bobble gracefully before my eyes as she bounced on my lap. Finally she stopped and said somewhat naively, “Seems kind of childish to me. This is supposed to be pleasurable? I think I like the last position better.”
“I don’t think you’ve got the whole picture yet. You’re not going to be bouncing up and down on some lucky man’s lap, you’re also bouncing up and down on his penis… while it’s inside of you!”
An odd look came over her face and I couldn’t decide if she’d understood me or not. I was so tempted to say, ‘Instead of trying to explain it to you, why don’t you try it out and tell me what you think of it then?’
Then she got yet another odd look on her face; and, for a fraction of a second, I had the strangest feeling she had read my mind.
“What are you doing?” I asked when she began rubbing her pussy up and down the length of my half limp shaft.
She smiled and said, “Didn’t you tell me that it’s sensitive right there? What did you call it… the ‘Frenum’?”
“Sure I did but I didn’t tell you t