Learning The Hardware

Learning The Hard Way

By Maximillian Excaliber

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.

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.”

“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?”

I could tell she was thinking and hoped I was wrong. When she asked,

“Why is it so much bigger then it was by the pool?”

Yup! That was it! That's what I was afraid she'd ask!

I sat there in silence for a few seconds and tried to figure out what to

say. I could have said, 'Well, because you’re hotter than hell and all

I've thought about ever since you told me you were free again was how

much fun we could have together.' But I didn't. Or, maybe I could say,

'Let me rub your clit a few minutes and see what happens to it; then

you'll know!' But I didn't say that either. Here's what I did say...

“It's how a man's body responds when he's stimulated.” Notice that I

neglected to mention anything about how a man can get turned on just

looking at a woman?

Just when I thought I was safe, Gwen asked, “Then it's not because you

find me appealing?”

There was just the faintest hint of disappointment in her voice as she

said it.

'Oh shit! Now what am I going to say?' I thought. Which was

immediately followed by, 'How did I get myself into this again?'

Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard that little voice answering,

'Because you were thinking with the wrong head again stupid! If you

weren't you would have seen this coming a mile away. Try and talk your

way out of that one dumb-ass.'

I really hate that guy when he's right!

Ignoring him, I came up with what I thought was a safe answer.

“It's possible.” I said evasively without denying it.

Gwen looked at me coyly. It was as if she were trying to make up her

mind to say something. Finally she asked, “What do you know about the

female anatomy?”

I thought to myself, 'I wonder what she say if I told her that I know

enough to make her scream in pleasure until she begged for mercy!'

“I know that every woman I've meet is unique in her own way and each one

responds differently from the others.”

I knew her next question would be, “How's that?” and it was.

“It's one of the things that men and women have in common. We all have

our likes and dislikes. Maybe that's part of the fun we have when we

get together... finding out what turns the other one on.”

By then my erection was beginning to deflate and I was only about half

erect. She glanced down at it momentarily and then said, “Let's get

back to what we were doing. It's become obvious to me that I've still

got a lot to learn.”

Then, without saying another word, she carefully crawled on top of me

into what was actually in a 'reverse missionary' position. Her face was

mere inches away from mine and the temptation to kiss her was almost

overwhelming. I looked her in the eyes and said softly...

“All you have to do is sit up and kind of move your hips up and down the

same way you would if you were ridding rocking horse.”

She did. And for a few seconds, I lay there and watched her breasts

bobble gracefully before my eyes as she bounced on my lap. Finally she

stopped and said somewhat naively, “Seems kind of childish to me. This

is supposed to be pleasurable? I think I like the last position better.”

I laughed.

“I don't think you've got the whole picture yet. You're not going to be

bouncing up and down on some lucky man's lap, you're also bouncing up

and down on his penis... while it's inside of you!”

An odd look came over her face and I couldn't decide if she'd understood

me or not. I was so tempted to say, 'Instead of trying to explain it to

you, why don't you try it out and tell me what you think of it then?'

Then she got yet another odd look on her face; and, for a fraction of a

second, I had the strangest feeling she had read my mind.

“What are you doing?” I asked when she began rubbing her pussy up and

down the length of my half limp shaft.

She smiled and said, “Didn't you tell me that it's sensitive right

there? What did you call it... the 'Frenum'?”

“Sure I did but I didn't tell you that to get you to... well you know.”

I said truthfully.

Grinning, she replied, “Oh, I know that. I just wanted to find out what

makes it grow like that. That's all. Why? Am I doing it wrong?”

“Wrong?” I was flustered. I counted to ten. The whole time I did,

Gwen kept sliding away. Trying to remain calm I said...

“Trust me, you're not doing it wrong.”

Disbelievingly, she said, “Really? Are you sure? It doesn't seem to be

getting any bigger. Maybe I need to try this from another angle. Tell

me, how do I change this into 'Reverse Cowgirl'?”

But before I could answer, she rotated around until she was facing the

opposite direction and then resumed rubbing my prick through the furrow

of her pussy. Her ass was facing me now and every time she moved I

could see her wet pussy as it slid along the full length of my cock.

The view was so hot, so sexy, that within seconds I was harder than a

stone pillar.

Then I heard her voice say, “Gee, you're right; it really does get

bigger when it's stimulated.”

Just when it was starting to feel really good, she stopped abruptly and

asked, “Let's try 'Doggie Style' now.”

Then, about as abruptly, Gwen rolled off me and onto all fours.

About the same time I thought to myself, 'Is this going where I think it

is?' But before I had time to answer myself, Gwen said to me, “Aren't

you supposed to be behind me; or, did I misunderstand what you said?”

Without thinking, I rolled over on my stomach and then crawled into

position behind her. The sad thing is I would have stopped right there

and looked at it for a few seconds had she not chosen that exact moment

to ask, “Do I back up or do you come forward?”

“I come forward.” I muttered and began slowly using my knees to inch

myself forward between her legs.

Even though I purposely tried to keep my cock safely under her, the top

of it still touched her sex. Concerned, I thought to myself, 'Don't

tell me she's going to start bumping up against me again.' But she

didn't. Instead, she bent her arms outward and lowered herself into a

more causal resting position. Once there, Gwen looked over her left

shoulder at me and said, “Does this look right to you? And who does the

moving here?”

“Looks fine to me.” Which was the truth. Admittedly, our definitions

of 'fine' might have differed, but since she had asked for my opinion, I

went with mine. The truth was, what I could see did look fine to me.

So technically, I it wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the answer to the

question she had asked. Then again, maybe it was?

Just as casually as before, Gwen reminded me, “You were going to tell me

which of us does the moving.”

'Damn! For a second there, I thought she'd forgotten! I'm trying to be

chivalrous here and do the right thing.'

“Either or both, depending on who wants to do the work. Usually

thought, the woman lets the man do the moving.” I replied. For some

reason, I don't know why, I added, “Remember what I told you about this

being the best position in which a woman’s g-spot is stimulated?”

A look of recollection appeared on the face and then answered, “Yes and

I'll ask you about that later. Meanwhile, can you demonstrate for a few

seconds how the man would move?”

And I thought to myself, 'Great, now she wants me to move! This is

torture! Maybe I should just go ahead and give it to her and get this

over with.' But then, that asshole who’s always right said to me, 'Calm

down. This is no time to take advantage of the situation. It wouldn't

be right. Remember, she's and old friend and all you are doing is

teaching her a few things she never had a chance to learn. Now try to

relax... and, keep your mind off her beautiful ass and on what you're

doing.' Then I thought to myself, 'Thanks buddy; that's a lot of

help!' I was being facetious.

About the same time I was thinking that, Gwen pushed herself upwards

causing my bulbous sex gland to bump her right on the love button.

Startled, she jerked suddenly and exclaimed, “What was that?”

“What was what?” I asked innocently, not sure whether she was taking

about the contact on her clit or my now bulging pleasure pole.

In a tone that seemed a mixture of both excitement and curiosity, Gwen

replied, “Where you just bumped on me, what was that?”

“I think that was your clitoris.”

At least I didn't have to admit it was my cock-head that she had found!

Bewildered, Gwen asked, “My what?”

“It has a name? I didn't know that it had a name. I just knew that

whenever I...” She stopped abruptly in mid-sentence. I think whatever

she was going to say she thought better of because her next words were,

“Is that supposed to happen? Is it supposed to tingle that way whenever

anything touches it?”

This time there was no mistaking what she was talking about. Not

knowing what to say, I gave it a moment's consideration and then replied...

“All I can tell you is that every woman I've ever known has responded

the same way. Does that answer your question?”

There was real excitement in her voice when next she asked, “What's it

feel like when something touches my, what was it you called it, g-spot?”

“Sorry, I don't know. That's one you're going to have to ask another

woman.” I said trying hard to hide my increasingly growing sexual

frustration.

I probably didn't do a good job because Gwen responded with, “If you

don't mind, I'd like to try one more position before we'll stop and

check the laundry.”

“Okay, but I think we've gone over the ones I told you about, haven't

we?” I wasn't lying to her; I was simply too aroused to think straight.

She pulled away from me and said, “You're such a sport. Think you can

tell me about one last thing before we call it quits for tonight?”

One last thing? What's left? We've been in about every position there

is. Wondering what I could have forgotten, I said...

“Okay, but I don't remember missing anything. What is it?”

Then it occurred to me that I had completely forgotten about 'The Drum.'

With a very sly look on her face, Gwen asked, “What do you know about

something called sixty-nine?”

Chapter Six - Lesson Three: Oral Exams

What? Oral sex? I had been hoping it would come up.

I would have had no problem discussing it with her before we went skinny

dipping. But then Gwen became impatient and insisted that we start

going over sexual positions before our clothes dried. Then, to add

icing on the cake, she'd started getting playful while we were doing

so. When that happened, any intention I had of talking to her about

oral sex went straight out the window!

But sixty-nine? That was one position I didn't want to be in if she

became too curious and decided to start playing around again.

Perhaps if I do a good job of explaining it to her, she won’t have any

questions to ask and everything will be okay?

“Where did you hear about that?” I asked, surprised.

She giggled, “Bobbie.”

“When?”

She laughed, “While we were in the kitchen.”

“Didn't you tell me you didn't know Bobbie well enough to talk to her

about sex?”

Laughing again, Gwen answered, “That's right. That's why I let her do

all the talking.”

'Bobbie must have done some talking!' I thought to myself as I tried to

figure out how I was going to explain oral sex to Gwen.

“What do you know about it?” I asked.

Gwen responded, “Nothing, Bobbie said I should ask you about it.”

“She did, did she? Remind me to take that up with her later.” I stewed

for a second and then began, “'Sixty-nine', unlike intercourse, is a

type of 'oral sex'. Unlike intercourse, the penis does not penetrate

either the vagina or, in the case of anal, sex the anus.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Anal sex?”

“Remind me to tell you about that later. Meanwhile, let's stay on subject.”

I continued...

“Oral sex is not done for procreation. It's done purely for the sexual

gratification of the recipient.

There are two basic types of oral sex. One is preformed on a man; it's

called fellatio. The other is preformed on a woman; that's call

cunnilingus.

In fellatio, the giver uses their mouth, and sometimes their hands, to

stimulate the sensitive areas of the penis I was telling you about earlier.

When cunnilingus is preformed, the giver uses their mouth, and sometimes

their hands to stimulate the sensitive areas of a woman's vagina.

Sixty-nine is when one person is laying down on the back with another

person on top of them, usually on all fours, and each person uses their

mouths to stimulate each other's genitals.”

Boldly, Gwen asked, “You seem to know a lot about it. Have you done it

before?”

“Yes.” I confessed.

And then she asked, “And you both enjoyed it?”

“Very much so.” I said honestly.

Then I heard her say, “Who's on top?” I thought I detected a bit of

excitement in her voice.

“Usually the woman.” I said abruptly.

Equally abruptly, she asked, “How does she get there?”

“That depends. If she's standing, she might kneel over him and then

crawl backwards until her face is over his penis. Or, she could just

stand directly over his face and carefully lower herself until her

vagina is close to his mouth. Either way, they end up in the same

position.”

I could see her thinking, Gwen asked, “It sounds complicated. Couldn't

somebody get hurt if she's not careful?”

“Yeah, but that rarely happens. She'd have to step on him or, even

worse, bite him.

Without a second's hesitation, Gwen said insistently, “You've convinced

me. It's far too complicated for words to explain. You're just going

to have to talk me through it one time. Otherwise, I might end up

maiming the first guy I do it with.”

“Look, you're making a whole lot more out of this than you need to.

It's not that hard!”

But instead of listening to reason, she crossed her arms and said

defiantly, “No. I know when to admit my limitations and this is one of

them. You're just going to have to show me.”

Let's face it; I gambled and lost. There was nothing left to do but

hope she didn't get too curious.

“As I told you before, one person is on the bottom and the other on

top. Most of the time, unless the woman is bigger than the man, he's on

the bottom.”

She rolled off the rug giving me room to lie down.

I did, placing my head on the head of the bear and using it like a

pillow. Then I said to her...

“If the person on the bottom is smart, they will use something to prop

up their head.”

Gwen asked, “Why do that? Why not just lay flat on your back?”

“Because it makes it easier to reach the other person's genitalia and

prevents neck strain.”

I'm not sure she totally understood it; but, whether she did or not,

Gwen asked, “Okay, what am I supposed to do now?”

“At this point, as I told you before, you have two choices. You can

either stand directly over my face and lower yourself into a kneeling

position; or, you can get on top of me in a 'reverse cowgirl' position

and slide yourself backwards. But if I were you, I’d do whatever I felt

most comfortable doing. ”

Very carefully, Gwen climbed on top of me. She was facing away from

with her legs were straddling my hips.

As she sat atop me with her womanhood pressing my shaft down onto my

belly, Gwen asked, “Now I'm supposed to start sliding backwards, right?”

“Yup!” I said as I looked at her well rounded ass.

'You know if you rise up a little I could...'

Her voice brought me back to reality, “What?”

“I didn't say anything.” Did I?

She leaned forward on all fours and began slowly moving towards me, Gwen

said, “I thought I heard something. It must have come from outside.”

As she did, the furrow of her pussy ran the entire length of my sex. I

could have sworn she was rubbing her clit on it the whole time.

My arms were at my sides forcing her to widen her legs and swat lower

every time she moved.

“You're getting awful close back here.” I informed her when her clit was

about two inches away from my mouth. I thought that maybe she might stop.

However, instead she continued, saying, “But my head's not quite over it

yet. I'm almost there... just a little bit farther.”

Finally Gwen stopped. However, after she did, her pussy was so close to

my mouth that I could have stuck my tongue out and licked it from top to

bottom without even moving my head.

“Satisfied now that you know how to do it without killing anyone?” I asked.

Hesitantly, she replied, “Yes. But...” and stopped.

“But what?” I asked wondering why Gwen hadn't climbed off me yet.

Finding her voice, she continued, “It's just, like I told you, I've

never seen one this close before. I'd kind of like to examine it for a

while. If you don't mind that is?”

Okay, so what was I going to say. You can't blame her for being

curious, can you? As long as she doesn't touch me, everything will be fine.

“Go ahead. Take your time.”

Elation in her voice, Gwen said, “Thanks. Okay, let me see if I

remember what you told me. This part is the 'Frenum' right?” Then I

felt what I thought was a finger gently run from the top of it to the

bottom.

Even though it tingled a little, I thought to myself, 'That wasn't so

bad. I can handle that.'

Next she said, “This is the 'Corona' or crown, right?”

Once more, I felt the same gentle touch circle around it. And again I

thought to myself, 'That was nice, but nothing to worry about.'

Innocently, Gwen asked, “Hey, is it okay if I touch it? I just want to

see what it feels like for a second?”

Since she hadn't done anything that I considered sexual, I said...

“Just don't squeeze too hard, okay?”

As I felt her hand gingerly wrap around the base of my cock, she said

reassuringly, “Oh, don't worry, I'll be very gentle.”

Gwen held me there like that for several seconds.

To which Gwen responded, “And the gland is too?”

“The gland too!” I repeated.

When I felt her hand moving me around like a video game joystick I

realized she was trying to examine it from all angles.

She stopped and said, “Tell me, what's did you mean by stimulation?

I took another deep breath and reminded myself that the only reason Gwen

wanted to know was because she'd never had anyone explain it to her

before. After I counted to ten, I answered...

“Friction, like when something rubs it gently.”

Her hand still wrapped around me, Gwen asked, “What's it feel like?”

Then, for the tiniest fraction of a second, I thought I felt something

lightly caress the tip of my cock. However, it happened so fast that I

could be sure. She was waiting for my answer but I didn't know quite

what to say.

“It's kind of hard to explain.” I wasn't trying to be evasive. I

really didn't know how to describe it too her.

Then she asked, “What's it look like while it’s being stimulated?”

“I don't know, I wasn’t looking at the time.”

Impatiently she demanded, “If you can't describe it to me, how am I

supposed to know whether or not what I'm doing it right?” She paused.

It was almost a dramatic pause. Then she said, “Alright then, you tell

me when I'm doing something wrong and I'll stop.”

And before I could say anything one way or the other, she began moving

her hand slowly from the base of my cock to the crown.

For the first time all night, I was speechless. One reason was because

somewhere in the back of my mind I didn't think she'd do it; and, the

other was, after all that teasing, it felt so good I didn't want to say

anything that might make her stop.

I heard her say, “How does that feel? I'm not hurting you am I?”

“No, that feels good.” I told her. That familiar tingling started

running my pleasure pole.

She moved her hand a little faster, “How about now? Good or bad?”

“Good.” I said and the tingle became stronger.

I felt her tongue rolling around the head of my cock and after a few

seconds she stopped long enough to asked, “Good or bad?”

“Very good!” I told her energetically.

She did it a couple more times and as her hand continued moving up and

down asked, “Can you show me what a man normally does for a few

seconds? I just want to know for future reference.”

Translation: Eat me!

So let's think about this for a moment. There I was, stark naked and

laying on my back. On top of me was woman I'd always dreamed about,

also stark naked. Her hand, which was wrapped around my love muscle,

was moving most erotically up and down in a massaging motion. AS if

massaging me wasn't enough, every so often, she used her mouth to tease

the head of my cock in a most pleasurable manner. To top it off, less

than an inch away from my tongue was her love button, which she was

practically begging me to lick. So was I supposed to do?

Of course I did the only sensible thing... I placed my arms around her

hips, pulled her pussy right into my waiting mouth and proceeded to lick

her clit like there was no tomorrow.

The way she started squirming as soon as my tongue began rolling around

her joy buzzer told me she wasn't as prepared for it as she thought she was.

“FUCK!” She cried out after she momentarily removed her mouth from my

manhood.

I was sucking on her love button at the time.

She rocked her pelvis a few times onto my face and then resumed sucking me.

When she was did that, I began lustfully licking my way up and down her

furrow of love.

Inexperienced or not, she was doing such a good job that I knew if I

didn't do something soon I would be cumming like a porn star... fast and

hard.

I pulled her even tighter to me; and then, I started alternating sucking

and licked her clit.

It worked! Gwen rose up her head, ceased moving her hand on my cock and

began writhing wildly.

“OH MY GOD! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?”

What Gwen didn't know was that she was about to have her first orgasm.

I knew she was very close when her body began violently jerking in

response to every moment of my tongue.

Suddenly she screamed loudly and stopped moving completely and I could

tell she was deep in the midst of a powerful orgasm.

I kept moving my tongue until finally I felt her body collapse and heard

her say, “That's... that's enough. I can't take it anymore!”

I laughed.

After she had rested I said to her...

“Was this whole thing a setup?”

Like a girl caught with her hands in the cookie jar, Gwen confessed,

“Yes.” But before I could respond she added, “But I swear to God,

everything that I told you about Patty and me is true.”

Then, she rolled onto her back, opened her legs invitingly and said

seductively, “Let's try that '“Drum' position you were telling me about

now.

With renewed self-confidence, I crawled slowly between Gwen's legs and,

without penetrating her, began running my manhood through the furrow of

her sex. I stayed like that for what must have been at least a minute

massaging her special play with my scepter of love.

But then Gwen wrapped arms around my neck and her legs around my waist

and then said, “Kiss me!”

She was insatiable.

Filled with erotic energy, we brought our mouths together and kissed

passionately. Her hard nipples pressed into my chest as our tongues

danced wildly in each other's mouths.

To my eternal joy, Gwen started raising her hips upward causing her sex

to cradle my manhood as she began moving for me and asked, “Am I doing

it right?”

“Perfectly honey.” I confessed. Then I asked, “Want me to move too so

you can find out what it's like?”

To which Gwen replied, “Would you?”

In response, mindful not to penetrate her, I began thrusting forward in

slow careful strokes.

She cooed and asked, “Think you can hit my clit again?”

“You mean like this?” I asked and drove my knobby gland further along

Gwen's love canal until I felt her squirm in response.

It didn't take to many repetitions before her breathing became labored.

Still gasping, Gwen replied, “Stop moving for a bit; I want to try

something. Let me know if it works.”

I did; and, before I could ask her what she was going to do, Gwen began

gently grinding the mouth of her pleasure portal all around the head of

my cock. “How's that feel?” She asked.

“Fantastic! Damn you're a fast learner!” I exclaimed because it really

did.

Gwen said unexpectedly, “Why don't we try alternating movements? I’ll

go first and then you go next.”

And as planned, I drove forward making sure to hit her clit when I

reached the apex of my advance. It wasn't long before we got our timing

down and were rocking blissfully together. Gwen was enjoying it so much

that she started using her legs to pull me downward every time I thrust

my pelvis in her direction. At first everything seemed all right. But

then, we had a couple of 'near misses' that almost resulted in penetration.

“Be careful now.” I cautioned her. “That's really close to the...”

I was about to say 'entrance' when to, what I thought was both our

surprise, her clit landed forcefully right onto the blunt end of my

passion pole causing her to roll her hips upwards just as I was

thrusting downward.

“AHHH!” She cried out suddenly, when without warning, I was pulled hilt

deep into her hot, well lubricated pussy.

Before I had a chance to pull out of her, Gwen's legs dropped from

around my waist and wrapped behind my legs. They held me there locked

inside her in a vice like grip.

“I didn't do that!” I said as fast as I could.

As she held me tightly in her arms, Gwen exclaimed, “I did!”

“Oh!” I said stupidly. I honestly didn't know what else to say.

And without saying another word, I placed my lips on hers and kissed her

as passionately as I could. As soon as our tongues intertwined, Gwen's

grip on me loosed. When it did, I began slowly thrusting my manhood

into her.

She responded by softly moaning for me.

When she wrapped her legs around my hips again, I arched my back and

angled my thrust upwards.

She cried out suddenly, breaking our kiss as she did. “AHH! FUCK!

WHAT WAS THAT!”

“That my dear is your g-spot.” I replied nonchalantly.

I could see her reflection in the sliding glass door. Her toes were

curling with every penetration I made into her.

About a minute later, between gasps and moans, she asked me, “Aren't you

going to stop soon?”

“Do you want me to?” I asked in confusion.

She responded, “No. It's just that Patty always stopped about now.

That's all.”

“Forget about him right now. This is the way it's really done. Relax

and let yourself enjoy it!” I instructed.

She was tight, tighter than any woman I had ever been with. She wasn't

tight in a bad way but rather tight in a good way. She felt so good and

it was so exciting that I was begging to wonder if I was going to cum first.

Gwen screamed. “OH MY GOD! IT'S HAPPENING TO ME AGAIN!”

One look at her face told me she was getting close to orgasm.

“Let it happen.” I said soothingly. “It's nothing to be afraid of.”

The tingling in my cock got stronger and I could feel my balls begin to

tighten telling me I was close to my own orgasm. I didn't know how much

longer I could last. I had to send her over the edge now or I wouldn't

be able to fully enjoy the sight of her cumming. In desperation, I

pulled out suddenly and drove my hard knob against Gwen's clit. When I

reentered her, I started ramming as deep and fast as I could.

It worked, she opened her mouth and made that silent primordial scream

women have since the begging of creation. Then, almost violently, she

began writhing uncontrollably beneath me.

When she pulled my mouth to her and French kissed me erotically, it was

too much for me and sent me over the edge. Unable to hold back any

longer, I erupted inside her. For several seconds we lay there, our

bodies intertwined together and shared the rapture that was the finale

of our lovemaking.

I rolled off her and held her in my arms allowing her time to rest.

We lay like that for quite a while and then Gwen kissed me

passionately. When our lips parted, she said to me, “So that's what

I've been missing all these years!”

I nodded. Then I said...

“Remember, that's just one position out of many. Each feels different

from the others… some more, other less.”

Sometime later, after the towels dried, we showered together. It was

her first with a man.

Afterward, Gwen said to me, “Despite what you might have thought all

these years, I knew in high school how you felt about me.” Then she

asked, “Why didn't you try to stop me from marring Patty?”

“I honestly thought you loved him.”

She nodded, “Do you still care as much for me as you did back then?”

“I never stopped.” Then I decided to take a chance and asked her, “What

about you, how do you feel about me?”

Her voice beginning to crack, Gwen replied, “Joel, there hasn't been a

day gone by that I haven't thought about you. Do you think we can try

again?”

I kissed her. It was all the answer she needed.

Prologue

And that's how Gwen and I began our life together.

I loved teaching her about sex as much as she loved learning. She was

so eager to learn that it wasn't long before Gwen caught up with me.

When that happened, we started looking for new things for us to do

together. We both enjoy surprising each other; and, not once since we

got together have we ever been bored. But then, I love her and she

loves me. Neither of us are spring chickens, but we're not over the

hill either. Being older and more experienced has made our sex life

better than it would have had we hooked up back in high school.

I asked Gwen once whether she regretted all those years that she was

married to Patty. She told me no and that they just made the life she

has with me more exciting. You know what? I believe her!

I had to go through two bad marriages to find the love of my life; and,

Gwen had to endure a hell that I can't even begin to imagine. But all

that's behind us now. For us, our life together has just started.

The End