Julia remained rail high on the condo balcony, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, naked and bent over. She pursed her dry lips and then licked them. Her tongue savored the taste of salt spray on her skin. Simon had given her directions, and she was determined to get them right. Once considered off limits in their relationship, her gift for following directions would be another man. He loved to watch her with women, but for him, other men were off limits.
She heard voices through the sliding glass doors. Who had Simon invited? She longed to know what exactly he had planned. He had provided a “bug in the ear” for today, and she shivered when his husky voice finally came through.
“Julia, we are enjoying your delectable body and your teasing show.”
“Am I giving you what you want?”
“Oh, yes. Please continue. We love the way you pinch and then slap your ass.”
“I imagine it’s you.”
“Good. Someone wishes his fingers were yours, exploring between your wet lips.” Simon’s voice was smooth as glass, and it excited her. “Your glistening pussy shines like the ocean water, my dear. You are living art.”
“Simon, come out and check how wet I am?”
“Soon. I want a soaked pussy and a red ass. Switch hands. We want you evenly red.”
As her posture changed, she heard the bug activate again, but no words emerged. Instead, breathing. When her hand slapped her ass, she heard an intake of excited breath through whistling teeth. As her fingers dipped in her drenched lips, a throaty moan caressed her ears. This event was hotter than phone sex. The man was behind her, and she didn’t know who. The rustle of clothes caught her attention but did not interrupt their matched breathing. Her pinch, slap, and rub synced perfectly with his “aaaah,” teeth whistling intake breaths, and a grunted moan. Was that skin slapping? Was getting himself off? She strained to hear it all. It stoked her on. Her orgasm grew closer. Julia had to suppress it because Simon had told her too.
“Julia put your hands on the rail and stand up. Spread your legs and keep your eyes closed.”
Simon read her so well. His instructions had stopped her from coming, and her panting slowed.
The sliding glass door opened and Julia heard two distinct sets of footsteps. She stood very still, eyes closed and waited. She craved a touch. She had prepared herself for him.
He tapped her lightly at the top of her ass, his signal to bend over. She presented her marked ass and her dripping pussy. He placed his palm on her cleft and began to ease his hand down her backside. Finally, a sexy touch. She pushed her butt out a little further opening herself up to him. He wavered, and then barely skimmed her sensitive skin to feel the wetness of her lips. Desire kicked in.
The shoes shuffled to either side of her, and she waited for Simon’s signal. He snapped his fingers, and she opened her eyes. His naughty grin greeted her. It made her want to do anything he asked. He nodded to her left, and she glanced to see who the guest was.
“What? What is going on?” Her voice shook with shock and disbelief.
“You wanted another man, who better than my twin brother. This is Henry.”
“Hello, Julia. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She focused on his voice. The timbre was different from Simon’s. He had been breathing in the earbud. A twin brother. A double dose of Simon roamed around in her brain. She liked the implications. Would Simon watch them? Would Simon allow a threesome? She thought she was wet before; it was nothing to what occurred now. Simon interrupted her sex hazed brain.
“Head on to the bedroom. Take out the earbud and get on all fours on the bed.” She nodded yes and moved to the door. She glanced over her shoulder taking in the wonder of two of them. Her imagination sang as her heart pounded.
Julia placed the earbud on the dresser. Biting her lip, she tugged on her nipples and then positioned herself on the bed. The sheets were cool and crisp against her skin. She hoped he wouldn’t make her wait long.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, only one set. Simon was letting her have this adventure with his brother. That meant he would sit on the lanai and watch them through the glass doors. Her heart rate increased.
She detected movement in the room, stopping at the foot of the bed. Who knew buttons squeaked sliding out of the buttonholes? Who knew a zipper could have a staccato sound as it was pulled down? Who knew a shirt swishing in the air had a two second hang time before it hit the floor?
“Drop your shoulders to the bed, head facing the wall.” Oh, Henry.
Two hands grabbed her hips and brought her closer to the end of the bed. The smack to her ass was quick on the right and left cheek. She gritted her teeth.
This was not Simon’s routine. One finger ran up the space between her wet lips to her asshole and back down. She shivered. He continued moving up and down her crack, slathering her juices up her ass and she gasped when his finger eased slightly into her ass bud. The idea of another man exploring her as Simon watched made her crazy. Without realizing it, she moved in rhythm with his hands. She was hot for more. As two fingers entered her vagina pressing up, she arched her body, taking all the pleasure of his massaging and stroking.
“Please, may I touch myself?”
“Um huh, yes.”
She worked her clit, he stroked deeper, and his thumb continued to tease her backdoor. He hadn’t eased it in yet, but she hoped he would. The build up to her orgasm was furious.
“I’m going to come. May I please, come?”
As she pulsed into the orgasm, he pushed his thumb into her ass and matched the stroking between her legs. She delighted in the full feeling. Oh, God. Simon is watching this. That thought caused an incendiary explosion. She fucked Henry’s hands until she fell onto the bed.
Henry wasn’t done. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his cock. He took what he wanted, and she moaned. With one hand on a shoulder and another tight in her hair, he pounded out his orgasm. It drove Julia over the edge, and another orgasm burst through her. He crashed onto her body when he came. His weight confirmed her fantasy had happened.
“Did I fulfill your expectations?”
“Oh, Henry, yes.”
“It was what you hoped for?”
“Yes, that and more, but I can’t believe that Simon allowed you and he watched.”
A familiar chuckle filled the room. “Simon didn’t.”
Julia pushed out from under him and rolled over. She stared into his gleaming face.
“Simon? How is this possible? I thought you were Henry.”
“The mind is a great tool, no?”
“But it didn’t feel like you. The way you touched me, the intent, it wasn’t you.”
“I know. I agree. Yeah, that bug in the ear is something, huh? Henry called the shots. You really thought it was him?”
“You wore the bug?”
“I wanted to meet your wishes. This was the best I could do. You and other men are still off limits.”
“But you let Henry watch me, and I know he got off.”
“He did, but that’s all. That was his price for playing. We have always been close. I suggested the idea, and he agreed. I do care about what you want.”
Julia thought for a second.
“Simon that bug in the ear is fascinating. Maybe you'd consider letting Henry talk in my ear during play time.”
“Tell me why I might consider that.”
“Because you get what you want if you do.” She rolled her tongue around the head of Simon’s penis. Looking up at him, she smiled and then slowly inched her mouth down his cock.For other wickedness CLICK HERE
No one knew how they named the bar, it was their secret. Sam finished making drinks and Landon and Nate perched at the polished bar ready to taste his latest concoction. The hundred year old cigar scent permeated through the wooden walls and lingered. Combined with the jazz notes and the aroma of alcohol, it took them back.
“Wow, it’s been five years.” Landon slapped Nate’s back. Sam had expected those two would be a couple but it never happened. Life changed when the trio headed down their own professional paths, but they each appreciated what they’d had together, good friendship, great feelings, and hot sex.
“Well if you two are up for a trip down memory lane, I have a surprise,” said Sam.
“Come on back. To celebrate our fifth anniversary, I thought we could reenact that notorious bar naming night.”
In the center of the back room sat a long lost friend. Sam had refurbished the infamous swivel stool. The wistful looks from the three of them suggested they were absorbed in the memory. Nate felt bad that he’d broken the stool before Sam got his turn.
“What do you think?” ask Sam.
“You know Sam you are the glue that holds our friendship together. I say it’s your turn,” said Landon.
“I agree with Landon,” said Nate.
“Are you saying it’s my turn on the stool?” Sam was stunned. He never felt worthy to receive from both of them. They had made his night, maybe his year. His answer was immediate and clear, as he yanked his shirt from his jeans and began unbuttoning. Sam watched them follow suit and quickly the three men filled the room with hard bodies and erections.
“Come on up here Sam,” said Landon as he patted the stool.
Sam centered his back on the stool, his knees splayed and he propped his feet on the stool’s foot rest.
Nate stepped between his legs. “Well, I believe you are ready for this.” He cupped Sam’s balls and licked to the tip of hard penis. Sam arched off the stool at the touch of the warm tongue.
“You really don’t get how important you are to us, so we’re going to show you.” Landon cradled his head and kissed Sam. The combined sucking action on Sam’s tongue and cock nearly sent him over the edge. Just as he wondered if it could get any better, the connections stopped and the stool swiveled, changing his position.
“This feels incredible, guys.”
Nate took his turn exploring Sam’s mouth while Landon held his balls and sucked his penis. The pleasurable sensations ushered Sam to another dimension. This reality was better than any fantasy he had of their threesome.
“Are you ready to flip over, Sam? We have other areas to explore,” said Landon. He massaged Sam’s ass cheeks inching his thumbs deep in between them. Sam’s breathing hitched.
Nate’s penis nuzzled his face. “You did want a cocktail, right?”
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Throughout my career, people have asked how I became the sexuality educator and sex therapist, Dr. J. Most people who asked the HOW question, presented it in a naturally curious context, especially if they knew I grew up “in the deep south.” While the how question has dogged me throughout my career, my plan to write erotica upon retirement was met with a different question, WHY? It got served up as a main course of barbed judgment and a side serving of, “You write smut, what a waste.” It fascinated me that two separate words, “how” and “why,” rolled off a tongue with such different intent.
In my career, I was known as the fun professor at the university, the resource guru for everything sexual, and the go-to-person in the local community with sexuality know-how that was clear, accurate, nonjudgmental, and sex-positive.
Yet, my presence alone caused cognitive dissonance for many in my community. All I had to do was show up and sexual energy charged the air. People wrestled with the idea they held of what a sex expert was. But mostly, they were stumped that it could be someone like me, the farm girl next door, the partner of an attorney, and the community volunteer extraordinaire. Cognitive dissonance became my best friend.
Before I began erotic writing, I undertook one last single-subject design research. I examined the how and the why questions about my sexuality career. I guess I wanted to remember where I had been in relation to where I was going.
I launched with milestones: my first job (which was forty years ago last month) with Adam and Eve, my first human sexuality course in college, my first SAR, my first transsexual client, my first sexuality camp, my first Plato’s Retreat pin, my first Playboy Director encounter, my first AASECT presentation, and my first research presentation at SSSS.
I harkened back to my intense feelings at being asked to leave an upscale restaurant for discussing “sex business” with Wardell Pomeroy, chastised for breast feeding in public, and heckled when I went to work crossing abortion picket lines.
I recollected experiencing my cervix as a tester for new cervical cap designs, working with the local pharmaceutical company to create the first area herpes support group, and choosing to be an interactive model to teach physicians how to provide a positive sexual exam.
I remembered training professionals to answer sex information hotline calls and apply sex therapy models, while keeping their personal agendas out of the clients’ concerns.
I reminisced about meeting and working with sexuality pioneers, too numerous to name. They each instilled in me the spirit of positive sexuality and the politics of pleasure.
I relived my era in the evolution of US sexuality culture beginning with Roe v Wade, identification of genital herpes, AIDS and HPV, development of Viagra, the label of sexual addiction, the ebb and flow of contraceptive methods and ending with a gay marriage battleground, state by state until marriage triumphed throughout the land.
I recalled highly personal moments: my parents bravely adhering to the family dinner rule that everyone must share something from their day (even when at age nineteen-the oldest of three), I provided condom stories over meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I remembered the arrogant surgeon talking to my husband after surgery. When asked about the timing to resume our sex life, he answered, “Ha, if it’s anything like mine, it doesn’t matter.” I remembered attending countless couple’s workshops. I remained ever vigilant that I would never be a hypocrite about sexuality, I, too, did the work.
But at the close of my career, it was teaching human sexuality to adolescents and college students that stood out as what brought me true joy. When I showed them empathy with a genuine self, interested in their thoughts and feelings about sex, they blossomed into who they wanted to be. For many, they became the best versions of their sexual selves, integrated throughout their lives, not compartmentalized or ignored, but instead celebrated and shared. They were the inspiration embedded in the why answer for my new writing.
So in my sexuality analysis, perhaps the how provided direction into the answer of why I write erotic fiction. Maybe after all these years, I still had some information left to share. Maybe when I created a fantasy, I knew it might aid someone who needed additional psychological stimulus to attain an orgasm as defined by the Quantum Model. Maybe at my local beach tavern, when someone asked how I spent my day, I could tell them about my latest erotica story. I created cognitive dissonance one more time because I liked how it felt. Maybe I would stand as a reminder that one can choose to have MORE positive sexuality in life.
In the US, we continue to fight sexual ignorance.
We continue to fight for comprehensive sexuality education.
We continue to fight for sexual rights to be equal rights.
I believe that workers in the field of sexuality, no matter which sexuality profession, make sexuality visible and showcase it as an integral part of the human experience.
For me, human sexuality is a birth to death proposition. Maybe the last chapters of my life are about creating a new sexuality tool that celebrates the culmination of my work and continues to affirm sexuality within each of us, myself included. Maybe I found a new medium for my voice that I will craft and hone.
Maybe the short answer to why I write erotica is because I CAN.
This week's WICKED WEDNESDAY was about questions. To Check out the other writing CLICK HERE.
Jeb rolled over, reached behind me and palmed my naked ass as he scooted back into the s-shape of my body. He woke me and in my sleepy haze, I could feel his fingers move slightly. I couldn’t decide if it was an overture.
In my sleep grogginess, his sexual play with George entered my mind. Jeb had been laid out across crisp, white sheets and George was on his knees at the end of the bed with his hands on Jeb. I wasn’t surprised. I had requested a threesome, and they agreed, but I knew they were uncomfortable with each other. I was peeved they had begun without me but catching them made me horny. They had no clue I enjoyed the show.
Wide awake, I replayed the scene over in my head and let my sexual desire take me. Watching the guys pleasure each other with their hand jobs was instructive, and I wanted to try out what I learned. I got into the rhythm. It started in my head, and then my body matched it with slight undulations of my pelvis.
In his sleep, Jeb responded, and we rocked back and forth together. I knew he was awake when his hand began to push my ass forward into him. I wanted to be closer. My hard nipples rammed into his back. I pushed his hand away as I snaked my arm around the front of his body and scraped his nipples. He groaned.
“Sal that feels good.”
My hand dropped lower, and I stroked his cock. “I want to explore your body like George did.” He tensed and shifted. I had caught him by surprise, so I held him in place.
“Hey, no problems, I know I asked for a threesome. You two decided to get to know each other early. It made me horny.” He relaxed back down on the bed and reached for my butt again.
“You’re not mad?”
“No, not exactly. Can I show you what I learned?”
“Yeah, have at it.”
Crawling over him, I pushed him flat on his back. He grinned. I pushed his legs apart and knelt between them. He shoved the pillow under his head, and his arms were flat by his sides. I had his full attention. I licked my lips and placed one hand on his penis and the other hand on his balls.
“I liked how he touched you. Was it his grip, Jeb? Did George grip you like this?” Jeb bucked up off the bed.
“Yeah. He had a firm grip like that.” I mimicked George’s action. Watching him work Jeb’s penis made me think of a gearshift in a sports car. It was my turn to move him through the gears, revving him up.
“He pulled you back and stroked you all the way down and then he stroked you back up pushing your penis toward your stomach.” Jeb threw his head back as his body rose off the bed. “I must be doing it right. You threw your head back like that when George did it.”
“Yeah, Sal. You couldn’t get more right. It feels great.”
“You got a little reprieve when he stroked you up, and then he dropped your penis on your stomach with a small thud.”
I pretended to be George exploring Jeb for the first time, noting his reactions, his likes. The exploration turned me on. Jeb loved it and apparently wanted more. He moaned so loudly that I never heard the door open. The bed shifted, hands grabbed my ass, and an erection settled between my cheeks.
“Sal, did Jeb tell you I was spending the night so we could surprise you this morning?”
I slowed my strokes on Jeb. “I guess morning has arrived. It looks like you two are getting the surprises today.”
“What’s that mean Sal?”
“I have been showing Jeb what I learned from you two this afternoon.”
“You saw us?” His voice echoed surprise.
“No worries you naughty man. I was into it. I’ve been practicing your strokes on Jeb. They work well.”
“Jeb is pretty sensitive and receptive.”
“Show me that stroke you did near his tip with quick little motions.”
Sal moved to Jeb’s side as George took Jeb’s penis in hand.
“Oh yeah, just like that,” said Jeb. Jeb blew out a breath, arched his back, and clutched the sheets. His thighs twitched as George held him in a steady idle with quick strokes to his tip.
“Oh, you two are so hot together. Okay, George, now go down on him.” Jeb’s eyes loomed largely.
“Naaaahh,” George stuttered. “Our plan was all about what we would do with you. This hand stuff was just a warm up.”
“Well, now it’s the real thing. You started without me, so this is how it’s playing out. George, you go first with Jeb. After that, I’m going down on George while you lick his balls, Jeb.”
The guys stared at me, not moving.
“George, come on. Back to stroking, I want to see you both hot and bothered.” I pinched my nipples and leaned over and kissed Jeb, then sucked his bottom lip.
“That’ll teach you guys not to start without me.”
I pushed my thumb in Jeb’s mouth, and he sucked. With my other hand, I swatted George’s ass.
“Mouth, penis now. Our little threesome has officially started.”
I popped two fingers in my mouth and got them dripping wet. As George bent over to take Jeb’s penis, I ran my wet fingers down his ass crack and wiggled them right where I wanted to go. His whistling intake of air spurred me on.
“I guess I’m going to find out how receptive you are, too George.”
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“Kneel and worship.”
“You will follow my directions, precisely.”
I couldn’t believe I won Zack in the celebrity fundraiser auction or that he would star in my sexual fantasy. Seeing is believing. This beautiful man knelt before me. Naked, all buff, and sporting an erection for the ages, all for me.
My bare pussy was just above his eye level. I wore the perfect heels to make this so. I stepped closer to his face. I wanted him to rock my world. “What do you see, Zack?”
“I see your wet lips, ma’am.”
“What do you smell?”
“I smell heaven, ma’am. It makes me hard.”
“Would you like to be closer?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am.”
“Nuzzle me Zack. Use your nose. You have such a strong nose. I want to feel it on my clit.”
When the tip of his nose touched me, I surged. I don’t know if it was from the actual sensation or the fact that I told him to do it, but I throbbed. I stopped myself from dropping my hands to his head because I wanted him to execute without my assistance. Who knew cartilage rubbing on me could feel so good? I felt his breath exhale on my skin. It sent shivers through me.
“Zack, I haven’t given you permission to taste, not yet. Keep rubbing.”
The groove on the ridge of his nose drove me crazy. It was like it had a perfectly formed slot for my clit to roll up and down. The pressure was even and steady. My orgasm approached fast.
“Yes, Zack. Taste me now.”
I rose up off the bed as a hot, wide tongue licked up through my folds causing a body reaction all the way to my toes. Two big hands held my thighs apart. I exploded as lips and a tongue owned me. My orgasm crashed harder than waves in winter. I thrashed around until all sensations quietened. When I opened my eyes, Zack hovered over me smiling.
“What are you doing here?”
“You mean besides doing you?”
“Yes. What are you doing home?”
“I got off work early.” As he stroked my hair, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I smelled my scent on his face. I stroked his cheek and ran my thumb over the ridge on his nose that I had a new appreciation for.
“Did I interrupt ‘me’ time?”
“Baby, you can always interrupt ‘me’ time, if it’s like that.”
“Well, when you’re yelling, ‘Taste me now,’ and all I can see is your hand down in your panties, you enticed me. It’s sort of easy to comply.”
“It worked you all up, huh.”
“It surely did.”
“You want a little ‘me’ time or a little ‘us’ time to work it out?”
“I want some ‘us’ time but of a very particular variety.”
His words held a little bite. I tilted my head so I could see his hard body. His erection was clearly visible in his pants. I imagined him kneeling in front of me with that rock hard penis, again. After that fabulous fantasy with his real world ending, I dared myself to try anything with this man.
“And what particular variety would that be?”
“You trust me?”
“You know I do.”
“Okay, hop up here.” He stood beside the bed and offered me his hand and pulled me in front of him. With panties askew and my open bra and jacket dangling off me, his look electrified. Walking behind me, he grabbed my jacket sleeves and bound my arms together in the back. The position caused my shoulders and back to arch backward and jutted my breasts forward. It made me wet. Zack tweaked both my nipples at once. It detonated a throb low and deep in my pelvis. As he unfastened the button on his pants, I panted, ready to appreciate his hard penis. I wanted to help him but his clever arm maneuver nixed that.
“I know you want me, but no. You are going to watch.”
He unzipped his pants, slid them down and off. His commando self, saluted me and I could only admire it.
“Angie, this is about how I want it. I’m calling the shots and I think you need a little instruction and incentive.” His teeth raked over both nipples and then he sucked hard. I bobbed up and down, from my flat foot position to up on my toes, moving in delight to his efforts. It surprised me when he placed both his hands on my shoulders and pressed down. My knees hit the floor. What was he thinking?
He smiled down at me. “I like you in this position, kneeling and worshiping. I’ll teach you precisely what to do.” His edgy voice wielded command. We had not done this before. Something about this relational position, him up and me down, exuded power. I felt it from him and I felt it in me. How did he know I wanted to explore some boundaries? Did he know me that well?
“Yes, sir.” I swallowed hard and considered what I had created with him in my fantasy. He stepped forward and took his penis in hand and rubbed it down my cheek. I knelt a little straighter for maximum contact and then he rubbed it down the bridge of my nose. Did he know?
Taking in his manly scent increased my arousal. Using the edge of his bulbous head, he traced a circle around the tip of my nose. I was giddy. As he pulled back from my face his massive, powerful hands stroked his penis up and down. It was potent. My fantasy didn’t arrive with this much real world sensation, except for the ending. He milked his penis on the up stroke and when I saw that drop of come oozing out the end, I craved to taste. I wet my lips ready and looked up into his eyes.
“I know you think you’re ready to taste me, but you’re not.”
“I want you aching for it. You kneel here and think about what you will do when I give you the opportunity.”
“Okay.” Zack blindfolded me, turned and walked out of the room. His footsteps grew fainter and the front door opened and closed.
On my knees, wet between my legs with my arms bound, I had no idea reality could be this good.
Writing this week for MASTURBATION MONDAY. Click here and WICKED WEDNESDAY Click here
My favorite hotel, Isosceles, is renowned for its mission statement, “We Connect You.” I wished they could work their magic with my secret; I was losing the ability to connect. I sat at the mirror table in the lobby restroom, observing finely dressed younger women bustling in, chattering openly, about their sexual exploits. I smiled to myself, invisible in their world, noting the pressure inside me.
They spoke of what they would do, wouldn't do, and what they couldn’t wait to do. Ah to be young again and to have known then what I know now. The downfall for younger women, they didn’t know what the future held; the downfall for older women, they did.
Vibrant sexual energy abundantly flowed around me here. It proved to be a fruitful place to play psychological games. If I were to select, who would I choose to invite to a private party with Dominic and me? The first candidate dropped her dress straps and adjusted her breasts in her translucent bra. She worked it like a job, not a sensuous act to move her forward in sexual desire. The other candidate eased her hand up her leg, smoothing out her thigh-highs to the top lacy edge. The light and seductive touch suggested the first stroke was for herself and the second for someone else.
What would she think about my tattoo, my piercings, or my body? She had no clue I sat here squeezing a vibrator in my vagina and feeling full with a new toy in my ass. At Dominic’s whim, I received vibrations, in both places. Claw-like contraptions, attached to my piercings, weighted my nipples providing minimal stimulation. All of this was designed to aid me in the search for my elusive sexual edge.
The young, fresh bodies here triggered hot sex scenes in my head. They were wonderfully sexy, raw and heated, nasty and dirty, thought-filled bubbles which I hoped would connect to my body.
Aging had robbed me of the capabilities for my own direct sexual connection, much less a quick connection. I struggled to make the psychological interest high enough or arousing enough, so my brain processes could coax just one biological nerve to spark and move my body interest and sensation along. If my mind and body connected, maybe today I could access my sexual edge.
A voice interrupted me. “You seem either sad or serious in this beautiful sitting area?” The lovely thigh-high woman stood fluffing her hair.
“Ah, both. Just reminiscing.” Could this intuitive young woman have an inkling of my predicament?
When I was younger, my visual sexual representations of the world followed with an instantaneous kinesthetic reaction. It was like the arousing picture contained an electrical plug and I was its outlet. When a delectable sex scene plugged in, I surged. That electricity traveled throughout my body and found its home in my sexual responses. I craved to experience that again.
“May I be honest?”
“Please.” She sat down on the stool beside me. The slit creeping up the side of her dress exuded bold seduction and confidence. She was luscious in black lace against her pale skin. The plunging neckline highlighted her rounded breasts. She studied me.
“I’m looking for a sexual spark to take me to my sexual edge.” She didn’t blink, so I continued. “Your last sexual experience how was it?”
She smiled a knowing smile. “Hi, I’m Annalise. Sex stories require at least a first name.”
“I blew my husband in the coat closet on the way to the bar. It was good but I’m looking for more.”
“Well, you’ve got the tools you need. Youth reeks of dopamine for risk taking. It’s the main pleasure resident in the home of the sexual edge. It’s housed there with fearlessness, vulnerability, and personal courage.”
“How exactly is this sexual edge?”
“For me, it was the place where I teetered leisurely before the orgasm explosion. It was the place that consumed me and burned pleasure into the cells of my being. I only pulled myself back to heighten the experience, before I dropped off the edge, and reveled in total sexual pleasure.”
“So it’s high level arousal that is extended and ramps you up before you go over the edge into the orgasm.”
“Essentially, but I miss the journey into the sexual edge more than the plunge off it.”
“I get that. I felt fearless in the closet plunging, but it didn’t have any expanse of a burning or hovering quality that I wanted. It was short lived.”
“I believe that sexual edge repertoire is an acquired skill that you can harness and practice for the rest of your life. Well, at least I did.”
“I never considered that one day it wouldn’t be there. Now I know that experiencing the edge is affected by aging. When the lubrication created by hormones for zapping pleasure nerve endings expires, what do I do? What connects the psychological and biological processes?”
Annalise paused and searched my face.
“I don’t know, but you can do what you’re doing. Talk, tell, show. Hey, bring me into the loop. This can benefit us both. Maybe I can help you with a new route to the spark. I’m pretty creative. You can show me how to expand the hovering, the journey.”
A hotel worker abruptly interrupted our conversation. “Are you Georgia or Annalise?”
“Yes.” We both replied.
“Dominic and Tony said to give you these.” She held out her hand which contained two remote controls. Laughing, we each took one.
“Kindred spirits, Georgia? What’s your thought here?”
“Annalise, today is my birthday. I told my husband I wanted a sexual affair with a younger woman.”
“This is surreal; I told my husband I wanted to have sex with an experienced woman. I booked a room here in Isosceles with no plan. My friends told me this place was special, their mission statement works.”
I considered Annalise’s words. She could be me twenty-five years ago. Was I even as bold then, as she appeared to be now? Ann Friedman’s question rattled around in my mind. “If older women can’t admit we're not having the sex we want, how can we help younger women?” Does this situation apply? We women are, after all, housing a wealth of sexual information we could share. Moving into the last half of life, we have seen and experienced much about sexuality culturally, relationally, and personally. Maybe there was still time for a new experience, a sexual edge recalibrated.
I stood and offered my hands to Annalise. “I would love to create a plan with you. Any ideas?”
She took each hand and kissed the center of my palm. When she rolled her lips and tongue lightly on my skin, something inside me shifted.
“Let’s go up to my room and send for the guys later.” She pressed the button on Dominic’s remote. I gasped.
“What else you got going on in that body, Georgia?”
“Oh, interesting things in the places that used to count.”
“A woman after my own desires. I can work with that.”
Writing today for WICKED WEDNESDAY
. Stories about the edge. For other renditions, CLICK HERE.
I heard Jack moan, the arousing kind. Through the crack in the bedroom door, I peered in. He was alone in his sexual enjoyment. It was private but the voyeur inside me forced my stillness. My palms sweated and my heart rate increased. It wasn’t the first time I had snuck a peek.
The intensity with which he massaged his penis through his clothes gutted me. I loved his sturdy hands. He worked himself deep, getting revved up. I lived for the expanse of his breath knowing his abdomen responded, moving up and down and creating that magnificent center ridge. He was a man’s man with all his hard edges and control.
In my mind, he was already naked. The technique with which his fingers slid over his penis intrigued me. His middle finger ran over the top, in command, down to the head of his penis with a slight flick and back up again. At the same time, his pointer and ring fingers trapped the sides of his penis and edged down. I wanted to know how good those three pressure points would feel on me. The heel of his hand pushed out, on the down stroke and I could see the resistance and his erection growing. God, he drove me insane. I couldn’t see his thumb, but I knew it had to be working some compression. His motions were so controlled and deliberate. My body craved an invitation. I wanted to touch, and taste him.
For a moment, I lost myself in the repeated hand motions. It felt measured and as masturbation techniques go, it had a specific meaning. I knew it, because my own did. The stroke told a detailed story, but wasn’t that so in all sex? In the past and present, it revealed our wants, desires, needs, and cravings. I knew those sensations well and enjoying him today stirred my first, shared, masturbation memory.
Jack’s deliberate movements transported me to a hot and humid, summer night. We had driven down to Lofton Creek. My friends, Howard and Dee, hopped out of the car laughing and giggling, unable to keep their hands off each other. I sat in the backseat of Howard’s car and considered how freely they explored.
“Jake, we could have some fun, too,” said Robert. He reached over and touched my thigh. I looked down and marveled at his hand on my leg. His touch electrified. All the hair on my body stood up.
“They won’t be back for a while,” he said. “You game?”
Lust and fear became my friend. I hadn’t done this before. I froze in place for a moment, curious, and then made my decision. I popped the button on my shorts and for each click of my zipper going down, my erection grew. I wanted this. Robert knew just what to do. He activated the small space underneath my penis, working it over and over. It lifted me off the seat. My cock engaged and pre-cum oozed out. He cupped my balls when he finished long strokes and as he got the right rhythm, he fisted me to an explosive orgasm. I had never known this type of pleasure before but I knew I wanted more.
The backseat of Howard’s car held the musky scent of sex and leather mixed with the aroma of the pine trees lining the creek. The rushing water mimicked my heart surging. It was the first time another man placed his hands on me. By that creek, my sexual-self emerged.
Jack’s exaggerated breathing pulled me from my thoughts. It had become louder, steady, and rhythmic. It hit me. He was in a scene. It was as if he responded to another person providing the strokes. He relived a different time and place. His resilient hands replicated the hunger of another. I knew that trance well.
I dropped the band on my running shorts down low on my hips. I freed my erect penis and took it in hand. I pumped several times as the sexual energy washed over me. The layers of sex pushed me further. Robert’s tentative first touch, from so long ago, carried my lust but no longer fear. Jack’s current sensual reprisal fueled me. The ghosts of the past mingled here, bringing forward robust sexual energy of another time. Could I keep quiet? Did I want to?
I imagined it was Jack’s hand stroking my penis. A groan, then a gasp, came out of me as my orgasm erupted. Sexual power and pleasure owned me. Jack turned his head. Through the crack in the door, he spotted me holding my cock and shuddering through my body quakes. He stroked harder. His head pressed back into the pillow as his orgasm tore through him.
Our slowed breathing echoed in the hallway. In the quiet moment of resolution, Jack rolled over on the bed facing me. I pushed the door open a little further. His look of heated desire charged me up again.
His words shattered me. My invitation had finally arrived.Enjoy your Monday hand play with other stories from MASTURBATION MONDAY. Click here.