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Learning the Hard Way

By: Calandria



Author's note: This story is an updated (and elaborated) version of a near miss I experienced as a youth. Enjoy.

I suppose you could describe me as a callow lad. I hadn't very long left college, was earning a mere pittance as a trainee – couldn't afford a car, and couldn't even have driven one anyway. But the juices rose, with some frequency, whenever the opposite sex hove into view, and I wasn't bad looking, I thought, tall and blond, with long legs and a good smile.

I'd had a couple of girlfriends, but nothing much had come of it, we hadn't got past 'heavy petting' – whatever that means. 

Then I went to a college dance, my old college, I had only been left about six months, and there she was. Sitting alone, hands in her lap. Wow. I had always liked long hair – be honest, men, nearly everybody does – but her hair was short. Short and very black. She had high cheek-bones, and was slim, but it was something about the way she wore that white dress that did it. There wasn't anything special about it. It was a simple, white, cotton dress, with a flared skirt. But she was just perfect in it, and I just had to take it off her – and I knew, there and then, that I would – or, at least, something evry like it, and quite soon.

I asked Wendy to dance, took her home in a taxi I could ill afford, and dated her for the following Saturday night. At the cinema, I fondled her firm young tits and kissed her eager lips, then repeated the process beside the telephone kiosk near her home, walking back to my parents' home with severely aching balls.

'Andy,' she had said, as we parted, 'I want more. I want you to.......touch me down there.' You and me both, girl – and how!

It had been a cold spring, as was the way in these parts, but it was warming up a bit now, and we had arranged to go for a stroll to evenings later, on the quiet racecourse close to her home. I chucked my jacket down behind some bushes, first checking there was nobody within miles of us, and pulled her down with me. She was wearing a light blue pleated skirt and a knit jumper.

Our lips met almost before we reached the ground, and her tongue snaked its rapacious way into my mouth at once, tracing the tips of my teeth, and driving me into a frenzy.

I then discovered that she was wearing nothing under the thin jumper – she needed no bra to support her jutting young breasts, with their hard, prominent nipples, just asking to be sucked. I obliged, pushing her jumper up to her neck. She made no protest, but her hand was exploring my hardness, stroking my rampant length outside my trousers, until its need for release was a painful urgency.

Then she was struggling with my zipper and laughed lightly as I helped by unbuckling my belt, then fought to pull down my underpants, over the awkward obstruction of my massive erection. 

Then, suddenly, I was free, and she took me, tenderly, in both hands, caressing my whole length, then cupping my balls with one hand while she stroked me lovingly with the other. I gently encouraged her mouth down towards the tip of my glans, and she licked it tentatively with her tongue, looking up at me, her dark eyes large and liquid.

'I've never............' she started.

'I know,' I said, and pushed myself slowly into her waiting lips, until their lusciousness encircled first the tip, then further down my shaft, then deeply, as far as she could go.

She sucked hard, and came up for air, gasping, then down again, and back, to lick the pre-cum from my tip, with all the skill of a practised whore. 

I made her stop, saying, 'If you don't stop, you know what's going to happen.'

'If that's what you want to happen, Andy...........'

'I want you to have pleasure, too, Wendy,' I replied, stroking her bare legs under her skirt, feeling the warm flesh of her thighs.

'But I'm a virgin,' she said, 'and I'm scared.'

'You don't have to be scared,' I said, feeling a thrill run through me at the idea that I might be the one to take her virginity, 'I'll be gentle.'

'Wait a moment,' she said, and standing up, she reached under her skirt and hooked her fingers under the waistband of her thin cotton panties, pulled them down and kicked them off. As she did so, I had a glimpse of her dark bush of pubic hair. 

When she settled back down beside me, I resumed running my hands up her thighs, taking care not to rush things too much, gradually working around to the insides of her legs, and easing them slowly apart. 

I found her slit, and her labia were warm and damp – she was obviously excited. I ran my fingers slowly from front to rear, all the way, first flicking at her erect clitoris, bringing a soft 'Oh' from her lips, then right along her cunt, and all the way to the tiny puckered hole of her anus, where I inserted my finger up to the first knuckle, something I could tell from her expression she had not expected, but which clearly excited her a lot.

'Oh, Andy,' she said, 'you excite me more than I would have believed. Do I excite you too?' She had a hand on my cock still, so the question was superfluous.

I had her open her legs as wide as she was comfortably able, and then moistened her still further with my saliva, before I very slowly started to push my eager erection into the waiting portals of her vagina. There was no more than a gasp of pain from her as her hymen was broken, and I was into her honeyed depths, where she held me with cunt-muscles that would have done justice to a well-practised adulteress. Her slender legs gripped my thighs. When she moaned with my deep thrusts, as my balls hit against her buttocks, it was in ecstasy, and the pain she had experienced in losing her cherry had been engulfed by the pleasure we had both found. We had lost ourselves in the act, and it wasn't until afterwards that we concerned ourselves that we may have been observed in such a public place.

Wendy was still at college, and finished long after my working hours were at an end. Once we started 'going steady,' I suppose I obsessed about her a bit, and, not having much else to do, asked her if it was OK if I were to go to her house and wait for her when I finished work one evening. I had never met her parents, but knew that her father was rather strict, and against her having a boyfriend.

'Yes, she said, 'that'll be OK, my Dad's away on a course, and Mum says you can come around any time.'

Although I knew that Wendy wouldn't be home for a couple of hours, I was at a loose end, so cycled round to her house, and knocked on the door, to be met by her mother.

Used to my own matronly mother, it was a surprise to meet Wendy's version, a slim, very attractive, probably bleached blonde, with long, slightly wavy hair, wearing a pair of form-fitting jeans and a sloppy tee-shirt, and carrying a mop.

'Oh, dear, you've caught me cleaning,' she said, ushering me into the lounge. 'Andy, isn't it? I've heard a lot about you. Call me Sarah, by the way.' I wasn't sure I liked the sound of all that, but she put me at my ease, and sat me down on the sofa, putting on a compact disc, which, slightly surprisingly, turned out to be rather cool modern jazz. 

'I'll just go and change,' she called from outside the room, and was gone for perhaps ten minutes.

When she came back, I was looking at a magazine I had found on the coffee table, idly leafing through, and at first I didn't take any notice, but then I had a shock. I half looked around, and there was Sarah, stood behind the sofa, in a sheer black negligee, through which could be seen every detail of a pair of magnificent breasts, with large, protuberant aureolas. She smiled slyly, and stroked my hair gently, then rubbed her tits around the back of my neck. My cock sprang to attention unbidden.

She walked slowly around the sofa, and I saw that she wore not a stitch under the negligee.

'Like what you see, Andy?' she asked.

I gulped.

She sat beside me and I caught her heady perfume – Rive gauche, I thought – then she slowly, ever so slowly, pulled open the cord of her negligee, letting it fall open to reveal a perfectly bare, shaven mound. She turned half towards me and, raising the opposite leg slightly, she ran the fingers of one hand very deliberately between the luscious lips of her moist cunt. She was presenting it to me, as if for inspection, and opened her labia with two fingers, then inserted the forefinger of the other hand, straight up her fuckhole, as far as it would go.

She moaned as she did this, and threw her head back with abandon. I took over the position of her hands with mine, pushing her legs further apart, and swivelling down into a kneeling position in front of the sofa. Then I buried my face deep in between her thighs and tongued her dripping cunt until she moaned loudly. As I did this, I found her arsehole with my fingers and was somehow unsurprised when two fingers readily slipped into the hospitable depths. She gave an animalistic groan, and seized me by the hair, pushing me deeper into her eager pussy.

'Fuck me, Andy,' she said, 'now.' It was an order, and I was nineteen. Was I to disobey?

Without further ado, I plunged my ramrod straight into her, and her cunt-muscles took control in a way she couldn't know that her daughters' had done so recently. But I had no time to muse on genetics, and half-a-dozen thrusts were all I could manage before I shot my urgent load, and collapsed exhausted across her. She assured me that she too had climaxed, but whether she was just being nice, I couldn't be sure. 

In any event, she wasn't finished with me, and, giving me a few minutes to recover, she eased me gently out of her, then started to play with me, at first gently running her fingers around my flaccid prick, then bending down and licking, sucking and generally playing with me until I felt myself slowly growing hard once more. 

She came up for air, with a mischievous grin, just like that of her daughter, and then reached around behind me with one hand. I suddenly felt the electric shock of her long forefinger going straight up my rectum! That did it. I was suddenly as hard as a rock.

'Now,' said Sarah, 'Fuck me in the arse, Andy – that's what I really like.'

With that, she spun around and presented her perfect, rounded buttocks to me. She put her hands one on either cheek, and pulled them wide apart, showing me the gaping dark chasm of her well-used anus. I had never fucked arse before, and was intrigued to feel my cock encased in its sheath. I hadn't long to wait, as she was impatient to receive me, reaching behind for me to pull me home. I delayed a moment as I entered her, my knob thrusting at her entrance, then I was through to her sphincter, and grasped by her hot centre. She shouted with delight when I felt for her clitoris and found it wet and erect, and I then plunged three fingers deep into her cunt, moving them in rhythm with my fucking of her arse. Having come so recently, I was able to resist longer now, and she must have had at least three orgasms before I could hold off no longer, and came in creamy spurts, deep into her bowels.

When we had cleaned up, and Sarah had changed into a track-suit, there was almost half-an-hour left before Wendy was due home. We sat comfortably and chatted.

That evening I took Wendy out for a drink, and she seemed surprised when I didn't seem very interested in the passionate kiss she gave me when we parted.

A couple of days later, I had a note from her at work. She had been offered a place at University, and was going to be very busy studying. Would I mind not seeing her until further notice?

I haven't seen either her or her mother since.

Learning The Hard Way



In my senior year, my history teacher was fine!

I fantasized about tasting him. I wanted to feel his lips dance across mine. I wanted to feel the heat of his mouth and his tongue raping my lips. There was only one thing to do and that was to walk right over to him and tell him what I thought. 

He sat across the room from me, looking so handsome in that suit. His lecture was not supposed to be happening today, but here I sat, and the more I sat, the hotter I got looking at him. I wondered how it felt to touch his chest, to rip that tie from his neck and the buttons from his shirt and tear into his flesh with my nails, clawing at him hungrily. 

I could feel myself tingle the more I thought about what could go on between us, what could be done to our bodies, how wet the sheets would get. To hell with the sheets, right here in this room on this table on these chairs. I sat with my head propped on my hand while I listened to him lecture everyone. 

I felt dreamy and lightheaded as I watched him. He got up from his chair and walked towards the place where I sat. 

"Excuse me Miss Winter, but I would like to see you naked after class." 

I abruptly sat up and said, "Excuse me?" 

"I said, I would like to see you after class," He repeated. 

"Yes, oh yes," I said in a dreamy tone. 

"What was that?" He asked. 

"Nothing." I said.

Class drug on and I continued to drool over him. When class was over, every one of my friends ribbed me about getting busted as they left the room, leaving me in my seat and waiting on him to come down hard on me. Oh, if they only knew how hard I wanted him to come in me.

He walked over to my desk and propped himself against the one next to me. I was not really listening to what he said at first, and then he reached down and touched my hand.

"Holly, are you even listening to me?" His voice was steady and solemn.

"No, I guess not, I was too busy thinking about other things."

"You seem to be doing that a lot as of late, is there a problem?"

His cologne wafted to my nostrils and I could feel my body tingle all over, I felt myself blush as I spoke softly to him, "The only problem I have in this class is you." 

"There is a problem with me?" He cleared his throat and continued, "Then we need to resolve that, don't we." 

"I would love to, but I do not think that there can be any resolution until after I am finished with your class or you expel me." 

I stood up to face him, my pert breast hard with excitement and nipples stiff against my thin shirt, just wanting to be released from their bounds. 

"There is always a way to resolve things, it may take awhile, but I am sure we can come to some type of common ground." 

I had always been quiet and never went after what I wanted outright. I always found another way to get things, usually by making things work to my advantage and winning them in the end, why should this be any different. 

Something told me that this time I needed to go after what I wanted full force, and then if got expelled after the fact, so be it.

"Yes, Doug, there is a common ground," I ran my hand up his tie and to the collar of his shirt and back down to where his tie met his belt, "but as I said, I don't think we can resolve the issue at hand."

I let my fingers trace the top of his belt and his pants. I could feel him tense up.

He cleared his throat but didn't speak, all he did was stare at me with those gorgeous eyes.

"Yes, Doug, you have see me watch you. Do you really think I wear these outfits because it's the style?" I shot him one of my innocently sexy smiles, and I could see him squirm.

"Holly," He cleared his throat again, "It's not a matter of me watching you. The way you conduct yourself in my classroom is, eh, no worse then how any of the other girls do. Well, actually you..." and he stopped speaking as if he didn't want to admit to anything more.

"Doug," I pressed my body against his and he leaned further back against the desk he was sitting on, putting his hands back to brace himself, "I only conduct myself the way I do because I want to turn you on." 

I whispered, "I'm so hot for you now, I'm wet. And the hotter you make me, the wetter I get." I batted my eyes at him and that was all it took. 



He was on me and his lips met mine with mad force. You couldn't stop the heat building up between us. He pushed me back, picking me up at the same time and walked me over to his desk, sitting me at the edge. He started hiking my mini-skirt up,then stopped.

"Wait," he said, and walked over, locking the class room door. I sat there waiting to reap that which I had sewn in his eyes.

Doug came back over to where he left me sitting and knelt down before me. I teetered on the edge of his desk and he threw my legs over his shoulders, peeling my pussy juice soaked panties away from my body. Looking up at me, he said, "I have wanted to do this ever since the first day you walked into class," and his face was down between my legs, licking and sucking like a hungry animal. 

I had to brace myself against the desktop while he greedily took my pussy in his mouth, making me cum all over his face, lapping at all of my juices and folds. 

He finally stood up, face shimmering with my cream, and undid his pants, letting them drop. His member was throbbing hard; I swear it had to be at least 9 inches in length and almost 2 in thickness. "Take off you top, I want to see those luscious breast!" He growled.

I quickly disrobed and his mouth went back and forth between my nipples as his cock rubbed my folds. I swear, I felt him get harder. I reached down to finger myself as he licked my hard nipples, then rubbed my juices all over his massive manhood. 

"Holly, I am want to make you scream!" He said as he positioned himself to push inside my pussy. 

"Yes, Doug, yes, make me scream, make me come, make me wet, fill me with all of your heat and cream!" I seductively spoke. 

He pushed deep inside me, picking me up off the desk and bobbing me up and downon his massive member with his hips and hands. It was all I could do to hold on to his shoulders, and I clawed into his shirt for grip. 

His face met mine with hot, tonguing kisses and breathing as he stroked me with his hot rod.

I felt his body quake under mine and knew it wouldn't be much longer before he shot off his load deep inside my body. 

I couldn't help it,I felt my body quiver and was ready to come. I wanted him to come with me. I had to tell him, 'YES, make me come, come baby, come with me, come for me, give me that juice when I give you mine'. 

My juices flowed over him, causing him to moan loudly and shake violently as his wad blew. 

He sat me back down at the edge of he desk, his throbbing cock still inside of my body, slowly relaxing. His lips found my nipples that were ice hard and he stroked them with his tongue and worked up to my lips again. 

"You are so hot!" he said to me, while catching his breath, "If I knew, I would have kept you after class a long time ago."

"You can keep me after class again, anytime you like." I whispered, still trying to catch my breath. I felt him slip and cum run down my leg and his. We just smiled at each other.

Class was never the same after that, and neither was detention. Eventually we parted ways, he obtained job teaching with college in Huston Texas, but that will never change the success I had my senior year, teaching him how bad nice girls can be. 

Mr. Austin, if you are reading this, I dedicate this to you. You were so hot, and I should have taken that one chance when I had it. You were my high school crush!



Learning the Hard Way



Tim Bennett was the kind of guy who spoke with a Texas twang despite the fact that he'd never ventured further south than the state of Oregon. Annabelle hated that about him. It wasn't the only thing she hated, not by a long shot.

She also hated that he wore Wrangler jeans at least one size too small. And that he drove a Camaro. And the fact that he styled his hair in a mullet was super annoying, especially since she was pretty sure he permed it too. He hated that he called her "pussy cat" and that he hugged her every chance he got, squeezing her inappropriately too long and too close.

But most of all, she hated that he was dating her mother. 

She didn't begrudge her mom having a man in her life. Annabelle loved her mom and wanted her to be happy. She just didn't understand why Tim was the guy she chose. Tim wore Obsession cologne and listened to Bon Jovi. He worked in a gym, so he was always walking around with free weights, pumping iron like he was cool. 

Tim forgot that the 21st Century had begun quite some time ago.

Ever since he'd moved in to their house, it had gotten worse. He would leave the bathroom door open when he showered sometimes. She'd walked by the bathroom just last week as he was drying off his hair so she got an eyeful of his penis...the first one she'd seen in real life. 

She almost squealed, but didn't want him to know she was in the hall, so she ran into her room, her heart thudding against her ribcage uncontrollably. He was sick and perverted...but she couldn't deny that she was curious about his cock. She didn't want to be. It made her feel disgusting, but she wanted to see it again.

She found herself actually sneaking around so she could get another look. He gave her plenty of opportunities. Just last night, she watched him jacking off in front of his computer. She'd stood around the corner barely breathing in case he heard her. 

His dick was as scary as it was captivating. It was thick, she doubted she could get her hand all the way around it. He was jerking it hard and the head looked angry and purple. Her fingers had dipped into her shorts while she watched. Her panties were soaked and she felt guilty and ashamed. But not enough to stop from rubbing her clit until she came.

There was totally something wrong with her. 

When his come had spurt out in thick ropes of white, he'd groaned. The same groan she heard through the walls when he was fucking her mom. It should not have turned her on. She'd listened for them every evening, though. 

But mom was back on the night shift tonight, so there would be no listening for three weeks, and by then Annabelle would be on her way to college.

After dinner, her mom left for the hospital, leaving Annabelle and Tim to clean up the kitchen. She was at the sink washing dishes when he got up behind her, reaching around to put a glass in the sink, his hand on her hip and the rest of him brushing against her back.

Annabelle rolled her eyes and tried to scoot away, but he pushed against her harder. 

"Don't," she said. She shouldn't have had to. He didn't get that close to her when her mom was around. He knew it was inappropriate.

Tim squeezed her even harder, leaning in to speak in her ear so she felt his words as much as heard them. "Don't what, pussy cat? Give my girl a hug?" 

She smelled the Coors on his breath. "You've been drinking."

"I like a beer or two at night. It helps relax me. What do you do to relax, pussy cat?"

"You shouldn't be touching me." He'd squeezed her before, but never this long. Annabelle started to feel trapped. Tim was strong. Really strong. And he'd been drinking. And her mom wouldn't be back until morning.

"Why shouldn't I hug you? I'm just trying to show you how much I care about you. It would mean a lot to your mom if we were close." He nuzzled her neck. "Let's get close, baby. Let's do it for your mom."

She tried to wrench away, but Tim held her firm. "I have to go," she said. "I'm supposed to meet Kari. She's expecting me."

It was a lie. Kari and all her other friends were out at their friend's lake house, but Annabelle had to work in the morning, so she didn't go with them. She'd been planning on a quiet night in her room. Alone. 

Tim turned her around in the circle of his arms, pinning her arms to her sides and her breasts against his chest. "I don't know how I feel about you spending so much time with that Kari girl. I don't think she's a good influence on you."

"Tim, I'm eighteen years old. I can pick my own friends."

"You are eighteen now, aren't you?" She didn't like that unholy glimmer in his eyes. "All grown up."

"Please let me go."

"So you can go spend time with that trampy friend of yours? What kind of daddy would I be?"

"You're not my dad!" As soon as she said it, she regretted it. 

He pushed his crotch against her. "No, pussy cat. I'm not your daddy. I can do a lot of things with you your daddy shouldn't do."

Annabelle shook her head as the butterflies in her stomach threatened to make her sick. This was not good. Not good at all. She needed to think of something quick, something to make him stop and remember what he was doing was wrong. "But you're kind of a dad, right? Almost a stepdad? So, that makes us related in a way."

Tim leaned down and kissed her neck. "No, baby, we're not related. But that does make me an authority figure to you. And I'm fix'n to use some of that power on you right now."

"What do you mean?"

"If you want to go out with Kari, you need to convince me she's not a bad influence on you."

Annabelle thought about what she could possibly say to convince him. "She's a nice girl. We both are."

"I guess we'll see." He took a step back and Annabelle sighed with relief. "Tell me what you do when you're at her house."

"We watch movies and hang out."

"Are there boys there?"

Annabelle shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Do you kiss the boys, pussy cat?" 

Her skin heated suddenly. "Tim, I don't want to talk about boys with you."

"That means yes. You kiss boys when you're with that tramp."

"Tim, I'm going to college next month. Yes, I've kissed boys before, but it's no big deal."

He grabbed her jaw roughly and pulled her to his face so she could see the red in his eyes. "Don't you tell me it's no big deal. I'm not going to send you over there so you can be a slut like Kari."

"We're not sluts," she tried to reason with him, but his hand was hurting her jaw. "Just normal girls."

"Show me how you kiss the boys, then."

"What?" He couldn't mean it.

"Like this?" He smashed his mouth against hers, holding her in place. His lips gentled and he was kissing her almost sweetly, though his hands were on her ears to steer her head.

She didn't fight him, just let him kiss her, hoping he'd relax. Tim pulled back. 

"Like that? Is that how you kiss them?"

She nodded. 

"That's not so bad."

She shook her head, agreeing with him.

"But do they ever do this?"

He pulled her to him again, this time shoving his tongue in her mouth. She couldn't move her head, so she took it. Took it as his tongue plunged in and out like it was having sex with her mouth. He pulled back again. "Do you let them do that? Do you let the boys put their tongues in your mouth when you kiss them."

"Sometimes," she whispered. 

"Do they touch your tits?" His hand groped her, squeezing and kneading her breast.

She sobbed. This couldn't be happening. 

"Do they?"

"My ex-boyfriend did, Tim. But we were going out for a long time before he tried."

"Over your bra or under, like this?" He snaked his hand under her t-shirt and into her bra, tweaking her nipple.

She knew she shouldn't like it, knew it was gross, but she got that feeling in her panties again.

"Under, but just once in awhile. I swear."

"I ain't sure I believe you. Show me your tits, pussy cat. I need to see something for certain."

He stepped away, giving her room.

"Tim, I don't think..."

"Take off your fucking shirt, Annabelle. Don't make me tell you again."

Her breath caught in her throat. She should be scared. And she was. Kind of. Mostly, she was totally hot and more than a little disgusted with herself. She pulled off her t-shirt, keeping her eyes on the floor. She didn't need to look at her chest to know her nipples were pebbled like hard little stones in her bra.

"You ain't done."

How far was this going to go? She shivered remembering that veiny monster he kept in his pants. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra, sliding the straps down and letting it fall to the floor.

"Those are real pretty, darlin'."

"Thank you," she whispered, not sure what to say while her mom's boyfriend stared at her tits like they were a meal set before a starving man. 

"Hold then up for me, baby. I want a real good look."

She slid her hands beneath her breasts and cupped them from below as if she were offering them to this man. This odious, lecherous man who fucks her mother. 

"Those are nice. Real nice. You got your mom's tits, little girl." He leaned down and licked her rock hard nipple, causing a shock wave to course through her body straight to her pussy. Oh God.

"You taste delicious. Anyone ever tell you that before?"

She shook her head.

He kept his face by her tits, but looked up at her. "Are you saying no boy has ever licked your raspberry nips before?"

She shook her head again. 

"I don't think I believe you. No boy has ever done this?" He licked the other one and then alternated between the two a few times.

She was going to pass out. She was standing in the kitchen holding her tits out to her mom's boyfriend and it was making her soak through her panties.

He put his hands on her hips and sucked her left nipple all the way into his mouth and she groaned out loud with sick pleasure and focused her eyes on his stupid perm. God. 

"You sure you're not a slut? You sound like one." He stepped back and the cool air hit the warm saliva he'd left behind on her boob. "Just because nobody has sucked them titties before don't make you innocent." He reached for her hand and set it on his groin. "You ever touch your boyfriends here?" 

"No," she whispered, her voice gone who knows where. He forced her hand to rub him through his sweatpants. He was so hard and big. She cleared her throat. "We shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong."

"Don't you want to see what you've been missing, sugar tits?" He took her hand and shoved it down his pants. His pubic hair crinkled around her hand and he stroked her fingers down his shaft. It was different than she thought it would be. Like steel encased in velvet. 

He tipped his head back as if in ecstasy. "You know how long I've been waiting for this?"

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was strong. So strong. All that stupid working out.

"Tim, please let me go. You don't want to make me do this."

"Baby, you have been begging to do this for months. You prance around in your little tank tops and short shorts, wiggling your ass and bouncing your sugar tits in my face."

"Not, that's not true. You shouldn't be looking at me like that. You're my mom's boyfriend."

"You think I don't notice you checking out my cock? Did you like watching me come the other night?"

She blushed even hotter. He knew about that?

"Do you listen to me fuck your mom and wish it were you? She loves my cock. She can't get enough dick. I bet you're just like her." Tim pulled her hand out and circled both her wrists in one powerful hand. "I bet you worship my cock just like your mommy. You're gonna love it, baby."

She struggled. "I don't want this."

"You wish you didn't want this, but we both know you do." Tim backed her away from the sink and against the wall. He raised her arms above her head so her tits lifted and he pinned her hands to the wallpaper. "But don't take my word for it. Let's see what your pussy says, shall we?"

"No, Tim," she groaned out as he plunged his other hand beneath the waistband of her shorts and into her panties. 

He traced one finger down her slit and she shuddered, looking into his eyes as he grinned like the devil at her shame. "You're soaking wet. Tell me again how you don't want this." He thrummed his thumb against her clit and she bowed her back, arching her pussy to him. "Your boyfriends ever touch you here?"

He pushed her button again and she gasped. "No. Just you. You're the only one."

"That's a good girl. You waited so Tim here could show you what you really want. What you really need. Isn't that right?" He pushed a finger into her hole and pressed her clit again.

"Oh God," she cried.

"Jesus, baby, you're going to fucking cum in my hand."

"No!"

But he kept diddling her and she became desperate. He was going to make her cum. She had to stop him, but what he was doing felt so fucking good. She hit her head on the wall trying to knock some sense back in, but then he lowered his head and started sucking on her tits again and she knew she was going to lose.

"Please, Tim. Stop this. Please. My mom..."

"Your mom is a little cockslut, Annabelle. Just like you are. You're so fucking wet right now that it's running down your leg." He slowed down, but didn't take his hand away. "Those boys you kissed weren't man enough to let your inner-slut out, but I am baby. I'm all man. I know you roll your pretty little eyes at damn near everything I say and you think you're so much better than me, but, guess what? You're little pussy here thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread. Your pussy wants me more than you've ever wanted anything your whole life. You soaked your panties enough to wring them out. So stop pretending you're too innocent or too good to stoop to fucking me. Pussy juice don't lie."

She could not fuck him. No way. She was not going to lose her virginity to a forty-five year old mullet-wearing man. She turned her cheek to the wall. "Please let me go. We'll pretend this never happened."

"I'm done pretending. You've been teasing me too long, baby." He pulled his hand out of her pussy and she almost cried with disappointment. He wiped his fingers on her nipple and then sucked the juices off. The sensation made her clench her legs together. "You taste like honey."

"Please let me go, Tim. Before this goes too far." Even though it already had. "Please don't force me."

"Is that what I'm doing, Annabelle? Forcing you? Seems to me like I'm just making you take responsibility for your actions. Make you accountable. I'm just trying to help you grow up, sweetie." He let go of her wrists and stepped back. 

She was free, but she didn't know what to do. Probably get out of the house, but then what? She couldn't avoid him forever and she couldn't tell her mom.

God, she could never look at her mom again. 

While she was trying to decide her next move, Tim reached for the hem of his tank top and pulled it over his head. He was too tan and too muscular, but she wanted to touch him. He raised his eyebrows like he could read her thoughts as he pushed down his sweats. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, even as he kicked the last of his clothing off. He was naked except for the gold chain around his neck. 

And there it was. 

The beast that lived in his pants. It was stiff as a flagpole and pointing just as proudly. She couldn't tear her eyes from it.

"Well, it seems you've teased me again and now I need to take care of myself since you won't do the mature thing and take responsibility." His hand went to his cock and he pumped it slowly.

"Right here? You're going to do that right here?" She needed to get out of the kitchen, but she was trapped between Tim and the wall.

And she couldn't tear her eyes off his dick.

"Did you like the way my dick felt in your hand, Annabelle? I know you did. I like the way you feel too, all slick and moist and hot." His eyes hooded and he focused on her tits. "And the way your pussy tastes. Damn. I just got a small sample and I'll never forget how sweet you were."

Annabelle couldn't get a deep breath. His words were hypnotizing her to the movements of his hand on his cock. It had to be nine or ten inches. But it was the girth that really amazed her. 

"Why don't you finish yourself off, too? I know you're probably dying too."

She shook her head in denial. "I need to go. This isn't right. What if my mom came back right now?"

"Suit yourself, but the least you could do is let me look at your boobs while I finish."

Feeling less panicky now that he didn't seem like he was going to force her any further, Annabelle took her first deep breath since Mom left. He'd probably finish soon and let her pass and then she could get out of here. She'd join her friends at the lake after all. At least she had someplace to go tonight. She'd worry about tomorrow later.

He wasn't pounding it fast, not like he did last night when she watched him masturbating. He took his time, stroking up and down slowly, his eyes on her tits. She clenched her pussy tightly to keep from humping the air. She wanted to dip her fingers in and come so badly. 

"Do you want to touch it one last time? I mean, you've gone this far tonight, right? Might as well at least touch it while you're looking at it. It will give you something to compare all those college boys to." She shook her head, but he didn't drop it. "Come on. We're adults here, right? You're curious. Touch my dick, Annabelle."

She shouldn't. The best thing she could do is hope he finished jacking off quickly so he would leave her alone. What if he changed his mind and went after her again? She was too small to fight him off.

But she really wanted to touch that cock. She was so curious.

Tim picked up her hand, and she didn't pull it back when he brought it to his stiff cock. He folded her fingers around him as far as they would go, and moved her fist up and down in the same rhythm he'd been using before.

"There, that's not so bad, is it? You're doing so good, baby. That feels great."

He loosened his grip but she didn't let go. Maybe if she helped him get off, it would happen quicker. Her hand slipped a little on the pre-cum oozing out and it helped her to slide her hand faster.

"Mmmm," he said, reaching his hands to her tits again. 

He stroked them softly, and she added her other hand to his cock. His strokes became harder until he was pinching her nipples just like she did to herself sometimes. She cried out as a tiny orgasm ripped through her, stunning her. She didn't know she could come without touching her pussy.

He chuckled and loosened her off his cock. "That's what I thought." 

Before she knew what happened, he grasped her waist and picked her up as if she weighed only a few ounces. He plopped her onto the counter and spread her legs wide, pushing the crotch of her shorts to the side, and dove his tongue into her slit.

Up and down, in and out. He used his whole face in her pussy. Tonguing her, nipping her. She had to rest the backs of her knees on his shoulders and hold on to his hair as he went crazy on her clit. The pressure inside her was building higher and higher as she squirmed against his face. He was disgusting. This was wrong. She couldn't stop her body from arching and trembling.

"Come on my face, Annabelle," he said into her cunt. "Get your pussy juice all over me."

She had no choice but to obey. The biggest orgasm she'd ever had ripped through her, ricocheting off every nerve. He was down there slurping all her girl come, moaning about how good she tasted, and still she couldn't stop humping his mouth.

She was a shaky mess when he finally lifted his head. He looked like a glazed donut. Tim grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss she didn't want. She tried to back away.

"Taste how good you are, my little cocktease," he said and thrust his tongue into her mouth again, forcing her own musky sweetness into her mouth.




Learning the Hard Way



Incredibly, it turned her on more, the taste of her on his tongue, and she sucked on him, unable to stop herself.

Tim ripped her shorts down and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her easily off the counter top. His turgid dick grazed her bottom and made her squirm as he carried her to the bedroom hall. "Which bed should I fuck you in, baby? Your mom's bed? Or yours?"

Oh God. Her breasts rubbed against his hairless chest. "No, Tim..."

"Yours is closer. We'll do it in your mom's bed later."

"We can't—" but the motion of his cock under her was getting her hot again, distracting her.

"She'll never know," he said, pushing open her bedroom door. 

Tim laid her on the bed and went back to eating out her pussy. Surrounded by her childhood possessions, her mom's boyfriends fucked her with his tongue. She grasped at the familiar quilt below her hands, balling it up in her hands.

"Eighteen-year-old pussy tastes so good." He scooped out some juice on his fingers and brought them to her mouth, forcing her to suck on his creamy digits. "You like that, baby? I'd like to see you between the legs of that trampy girl, Kari. Sucking her clit until your face is covered in her pussy juice. Would you like that?" He kept feeding her cum from his fingers and she knew she'd never be able to look at her best friend again without thinking of this. "Maybe we'll invite her over and I'll fuck you from behind while you slather yourself in girl come."

He barely grazed her clit and she came again like a rocket being launched. "Fuck!" she cried, the word being ripped out of her almost violently. 

"Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing." Tim rubbed his fat cock over her juicy mound. She was still trembling from the aftershocks when he raised up and straddled her chest. "My cock is dripping from your cream and I haven't even stuck it in yet. Suck your juice off it like you did my fingers."

It was huge, especially right in front of her face. Like 3-D porn. "I don't know how..."

"Lick your girl cream off it."

He held it closer to her lips and she stuck out her tongue, swiping the bottom of his rod. It was good. Really good. She licked some more, inspired by his groans. She sucked the tip of his cock in her mouth, her juice and his mixing together. She edged the rim of the head with her tongue and he shuddered, pulling out quickly. God, she hated Tim and herself more, but she loved the way his velvety cock felt in her mouth.

"You're a born cocksucker, baby. But I don't want to blow my load yet. I want your cherry first." He backed down to her pussy. "Sit up on your elbows. I want you to watch. I want you to fucking watch my dick slide into the pussy you thought you were too good to give me."

She did as he asked reluctantly. She knew she shouldn't do this. They'd gone past the point of stopping. His dick looked like a weapon. "It's never going to fit."

He pushed the tip in while she watched the hard cock invade her virgin pussy. He paused, letting her stretch around him, then pushed a little further. "You feel amazing. Your pussy is grabbing my cock like a vice."

He pushed it in more and Annabelle saw stars. He already filled up her little pussy and he was only halfway in. "Tim, it's going to hurt."

He ignored her protest and moved his hips. "Look at it. Look at my cock filling you up. Your pussy is so wet. So, so wet. Watch your pussy take my whole cock, Annabelle. Your little teen pussy is creamy for my meat. You're such a fucking little slut." With that he pushed the rest of the way.

They both cried out, Tim in ecstasy and Annabelle in shock. Tim pushed her knees wider as he seated himself more fully into the cradle of her hips. "Play with your tits like a good cockslut."

"What?"

He pushed her all the way onto her back, pulling her hands to the fleshy globes. "Play with them. Squeeze your nips while I slide in and out of your hot little box." She was embarrassed by his words, but squeezed her tits. "Yeah, just like that. You were born for cock, weren't you?" Tim eased out of her pussy until only the tip remained inside of her, then he slammed back in, his balls slapping against her as his did it again. "Look at the little princess now. Miss Too Good for ol' Tim flat on her back taking his cock like a pro. Pinch those nipples, baby."

It was too much. His cock filling her to the brim, the sweet pain of her pinches, and his dirty talk combined into a lethal combination and her orgasm started like a pot coming to boil.

"Oh yeah, cum all over my dick, baby. Little teen dream loves her man meat, doesn't she?"

She bucked hard, but he gripped her hips and started slamming into her over and over, the squishy sound of his cock sliding in all her juices repelled her, knowing that she'd come so many times for this man she hated. Tim's entire body piked as he shouted his release coming inside her, dumping his come in her well-used pussy. He didn't stop coming, not for a long time. Finally, he collapsed on top of her.

"Hope you remembered to take your pill this morning. We wouldn't want you getting all big with Tim Jr. now would we?"

Annabelle turned her head into the pillow to avoid looking at him. She was so ashamed. She lost her virginity to this pig. And liked it. Not once did she even think about using a condom. Not once. God only knew what he could have given her. He obviously wasn't faithful to her mom. At least she was on the pill. She couldn't imagine being pregnant with his baby.

Tim rolled off her onto his back. "You are a fine piece, pussy cat. I want to fuck you again already, but you're gonna be sore for bit. My anaconda isn't exactly a beginner model." He chuckled and she felt like throwing up. 

"Please get out," she said.

He laughed again. "Already back on your high and mighty horse, eh?" He came back over her, holding her jaw tightly in his giant hand so that she was forced to look at him. He plastered his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue in her mouth roughly and gnashing against her teeth. She could barely breathe. And then he was squeezing her tit with his other hand to the point of exquisite pain. "I'll leave you with this, darlin'. While you're thinking you are too good for me, your pussy is oozing with my come. I was your first cock. You'll never forget me. You're a nasty, naughty little girl who fucked her momma's boyfriend. You don't get to pretend to be a princess with me anymore. You're going to fuck me over and over again this summer too, hating yourself for it, but you'll keep doing it. Because you love getting that monster between your legs."

He left her then. It didn't matter how many showers she took, she felt unclean. All night, she kept waiting for him to come back, afraid he'd make her forget herself again. She couldn't allow him to do that. She called in sick for work the next day and hid in her room.

By dinner, she thought she was off the hook by telling her mom she wasn't feeling well, but Tim had other ideas. He texted her that if she didn't come to the kitchen, he'd tell her mom how Annabelle seduced and fucked him while she'd been at work. 

She couldn't let her mom find out how they'd betrayed her so she came to the table with no appetite. Dinner was uncomfortable. Under the table, Tim stroked his hand over her thigh several times. When the phone rang, and her mom got up to answer it, Tim reached over and fondled her tit through her baggy sweatshirt. "Doesn't matter what you wear now, pussy cat. I know what you look like under those clothes. I ain't fooled."

"Stop it," she whispered. 

He pulled his hand away just in time. A second later and her mom would have caught them.

The next hour seemed to drag into forever. She simultaneously didn't want her mom to leave and was begging for her to go before she caught on to what was happening. Tim kept touching Annabelle. It was only a matter of time before her mom saw. He just smiled like he didn't have a care in the world.

Her mom had just pulled out of the driveway when Tim was on her, pulling on her clothes and sucking on her neck hard enough to leave marks.

"Stop it, Tim!" Annabelle shouted, trying to push away his hands.

"I been thinking about you all day. You know what? Even when I was balls deep in your mom's pussy, I was thinking about fucking you, sweetheart."

Her stomach tumbled and she was sure she was going to hurl. "We can't do it ever again, Tim. It's wrong. My mom doesn't deserve it."

"She never needs to know. Not if you don't screw up." He sucked on her earlobe and tweaked her nipple. "Do you understand what I'm saying? If you are a good girl and keep Tim here happy, your mom won't find out."

But if she didn't keep fucking him?

"That's right, sweetie. You're a smart girl. You keep me occupied with that pussy and mouth of yours, and I won't have time to feel bad and confess my sins to your sweet momma. But you might have to work really hard."

"God, you're a pig."

He just laughed. "I want to do you in your mom's bed this time. The same bed I fucked her in this morning when she came home from her shift. I'm going to make you come over and over in your mom's sheets."

He lifted the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it off. She couldn't fight him, too much was at stake. He unclasped her bra next and sucked her nipples. She couldn't stop the moan from slipping out. "Fuck baby. You're so hot. I feel almost guilty keeping you all to myself. Maybe I should pass you around to all my friends at the gym. You'd like that, wouldn't you? All those cocks all for you."

She tried to wipe her mind clear of the vision, but it was too late. She saw only too clearly what it would be like to have three of four of his friends surrounding her with their cocks out and ready. She shuddered, and Tim bit her before he stepped back and pushed her towards the kitchen door. 

She went without fight, past her own room and into her mom's. Tim followed, stripping his clothes as he went. 

He pushed her onto her stomach on her mom's bed and grabbed the elastic of her yoga pants and panties, pulling them down in one movement. "Get on your knees," he ordered. As he rubbed his cock on her pussy from behind, he kept talking. "I can see you now with all those cocks. You could have one in your mouth and one in your pussy, Annabelle. Hell, I'll fuck your ass and you can be airtight. Would you like that? Three cocks sawing in and out of all your holes?"

She shook her head, but the moisture gathered in her pussy. What had he said last night? Pussy juice don't lie?

"I think you'd like it," he said. "No, I think you'd love it." He pushed his cock in her pussy, filling her up to capacity immediately. "You know what else, Annabelle? I think you're going to share me with your trampy friend, Kari."

She couldn't believe this was turning her on. Like Kari would ever have sex with Tim, anyway. 

Tim continued fucking her really slowly while he talked. "I can sit on the couch with your best friend straddling me backwards. While I fuck her juicy cunt, you can go down on her. You can bury your face in her pussy, Annabelle. You can lick and nibble the fuck out of her, stopping to lick my balls now and then. Do you think Kari would like that? Do you think she'd like having my monster cock in her pussy and her best friend's tongue on her clit?"

In her mind, she could see Kari's face as she was pleasured by them both. Would Tim's dick taste as good with Kari's cream on it as it had with Annabelle's? "I'd clean your dick," Annabelle said, amazed to realize she'd said it out loud.

Tim paused. "That's right, baby. You'd clean all that girl cum off my dick, wouldn't you?" He pulled out and lay on the bed. "Show Tim how you'd do it. Show me how you'd lick me clean of Kari's cum."

It's like she was possessed. She dove down and started licking up and down his shaft, moaning at how good her pussy tasted on it. God, was she a lesbo? No, no she really loved dick. And pussy. She reached into her pussy and wet her fingers so she could wipe them on Tim's cock. 

"That's it, cockslut. You're so dirty. Lick it good. Lick it all clean." A minute later he sat up. "See how much of it will fit in your mouth."

And with that, she tried to swallow his cock like she'd seen on the internet sites Tim had bookmarked on the family computer. His rod was too big to get much of it in, but she worked at it until he grabbed her by the ears and started fucking her face roughly, his cock hitting the back of her throat.

She kind of blacked out for a minute, but when she came back to, Tim was roaring as he unloaded buckets of jizz into her mouth. She tried swallowing, but it dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin. Their breaths came in giant heaves, but once he could talk again, Tim started up. 

"Fuck, you little slut." He threw her onto her back and started lapping at her pussy like a wild animal. 

She came two more times in his mouth and then he was ready to go again. 

Because he'd already come once, his erection lasted a lot longer the second time. "When you get to college," he said. "When you get there, the first thing you should do is fuck your professors. This pussy will earn you all good grades, I guarantee it. Hell, fuck the dean too."

She arched, trying to get his dick in all the way. It was so, so big and felt so good. She didn't know how she had lived this long without juicy cock. "Maybe some of my teachers will be women."

"Yeah, fuck them too, baby. Suck their clits with that pretty little mouth." 

With that, they both came again. She was full of his cum. It was all over her, inside and out. She was covered in jizz in the same sheets he'd fucked her mom in twelve hours earlier. That made her a slut. She could pretend she was protecting her mom by letting herself get blackmailed by Tim, but the truth was that she would do anything he asked if she could keep getting fucked by his cock.

The next day, she snuck out of her room when her mom got home from work and cracked open their bedroom door so she could watch him fuck her mother. The sound of Tim's balls slapping hard against her mom's cunt sent Annabelle into finger frenzy in her panties. Later, when her mom was asleep, Annabelle fucked Tim in the shower. Every day became a game of how much they could get away with. She flashed him her tits and groped his cock whenever her mom's back was turned. 

She stopped going out with her friends so she had more time for dick. She still hated him, but boy did she love his cock and that fucking tongue.

When it was time to leave for college, she would be sad, but realized it was probably a good thing. She couldn't keep on fucking her mom's boyfriend and there would be plenty of dick substitutes at college. 

What more could a girl ask for?



Learning The Hard Way (Edited V. 1.10)



Introduction

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

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. 




Learning The Hard Way (Edited V. 1.10)



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.

Even if she hadn't hit me with the cold water, the hard nipples protruding from her breast through her bikini top said everything.

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."

"How?"

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?"

"A few."

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."




Learning The Hard Way (Edited V. 1.10)



"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. "

"Books?"

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."

"Excuse me?" 

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?"