Samantha’s First

By

Matt Corton

(Story codes: MF, mf, incest, exhib,1st)


“God, it was wonderful,” Sue said. “Talk about multiple orgasms! I 
still can’t sit comfortably...” Once again the rest of us had to listen 
while Sue, the office tart – at least that’s what I thought of her – 
gave us a graphic description of her carnal antics that weekend. As 
usual, the mere mention of sexual activity caused me to blush a 
deep, beetroot red – as Sue immediately noticed.

“Don’t tell us you’ve never had a multiple orgasm, Sam!” she said 
in a mock-horror voice. “I’m sure that good looking husband of 
yours knows how to stoke your boiler.”

“Of – of course, I mean – I…” I tried to stammer out a response, 
but once again Sue had got the better of me. Everyone else, of 
course, was laughing at my predicament. I, on the other hand, had 
to fight back the tears. It was with a great effort that I regained my 
composure and smiled weakly.

What I actually wanted to do was to scream out “Multiple 
orgasms? I’ve never had even a single bloody orgasm! In fact, I’m 
not sure that bloody orgasms exist except in bloody stupid 
magazines and cheap novels.” But of course I didn’t, because I 
knew deep down that it was me who was different and that every 
other woman in the world was experiencing something that I was 
missing.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that Philip and I don’t have sex. We 
do, about once a month on average, I suppose. And I don’t really 
mind it too much. I even quite enjoy the closeness of the 
experience and I get pleasure from knowing that it makes Philip 
happy. He is very gentle and it doesn’t last very long. I’m glad 
about that as I prefer the cuddling up together afterwards as we 
drift off to sleep. Philip works away from home all week and I miss 
snuggling up to him at bedtime.

I know that it’s my fault that our sex life isn’t more exciting. I am 
terrifically shy about my body and its functions and I was brought 
up to think of sex as dirty and sordid. I love my husband so much, 
and yet I’m even reluctant to let him see me undressed. Not that 
there’s anything particularly wrong with me. I just can’t bring 
myself to overcome the disturbing feeling that I am doing 
something wrong and sinful whenever Philip and I are engaged in 
sex.

I had been a virgin when we had married. Imagine that, in this day 
and age. Don’t misunderstand me - I’m not especially proud of this. 
You see, I was only technically a virgin. There had been an 
incident when, as a young teenager, I had virtually..... No, I’m not 
yet ready to tell that story, although I know that for you to 
understand the events that follow I will have to somehow find the 
strength to do so.

Now – I know what you’re thinking. Surely I achieved satisfaction 
from own fingers from time to time? After all, every one does it, 
don’t they? At least, according to the magazines they do. Well, 
you’ve just met the exception who proves the rule. I had never – 
you know – touched myself down there.  I wouldn’t even have 
known how.

So, that was me. Twenty-seven years old, happily married for six 
years, and had never had an orgasm. That’s assuming they do, in 
fact, exist.

*****

It was two days later that my life began to change. It’s funny how 
an ordinary, mundane activity can be the catalyst of such change in 
a woman’s life. I was out shopping after work, looking to kill an 
hour or two before going home to my empty house. God, how I 
missed Philip during those long, lonely weekdays, and how I 
celebrated each Friday with the promise of his imminent return 
from wherever his firm had sent him that week!

It happened in the Ladieswear section of a department store. I was 
idling away time looking for some new underwear and had selected 
two bras to try on. I headed for the changing rooms. Now, it’s 
important to understand the layout of this area. Individual changing 
cubicles were situated left and right of the short entrance 
passageway. The cubicles themselves were small, with a full length 
mirror on the facing wall. Privacy was obtained by pulling a curtain 
over after stepping inside.

The only cubicle free was the first one to the left of the entrance. I 
pulled my jumper over my head and replaced the bra I was wearing 
with one of the new ones. I recall adjusting its position on my 
breasts to make it more comfortable. It was just at that moment 
when a slight movement in front of me caught my eye. I was 
confused for a second. How can something be moving in front of 
me when I’m looking at the back of the cubicle? I moved aside 
slightly and realisation flashed into me. I was seeing a reflection in 
the mirror – a reflection of a young man looking straight at me. 
And if I could see him, he could see me!

I glanced behind me. I had not closed the curtain properly behind 
me, leaving a gap of three or four inches. The man was innocently 
waiting for his girlfriend or wife to try something on, as men do the 
world over. However the angle he had inadvertently positioned 
himself at, and my carelessness with the curtain had resulted in him 
having a perfect view into the mirror as I was changing. I nearly 
fainted with shock as I became conscious of the fact that a few 
moments ago he would have had sight of my naked breasts. I had to 
reach up and clutch one of the coat hooks to steady myself.

A heat surged through my body – an intense feeling of shame and 
embarrassment, tinged with an excitement that shook me to my 
very core. My mind misted over and I became again that girl of 
fourteen who had disgraced herself that time– who, shamefully, 
had wanted to be disgraced. 

I watched the man’s eyes open wide with amazement and his lips 
part slightly as I removed the bra I had just tried on. Then I 
unzipped my skirt and dropped it onto the floor. A moment later I 
slipped down my panties and let them fall to my ankles. I stood 
facing the mirror – no, facing him – stark naked. I remained there 
for several moments, powerless to move. At that moment I was 
behaving worse than a common slut and I was thrilled to the very 
core of my being.

The man’s free show was ended when his partner grabbed his arm 
and led him reluctantly away. I awoke from my shameful reverie, 
adjusted the curtain properly, dressed quickly and left the store to 
drive home. 

Later I lay in the bath, scrubbing and scrubbing myself as if to 
wash away the sin I had committed. Eventually, I stopped 
scrubbing and started to cry. After the tears subsided, I closed my 
eyes and lived again that evening, long, long ago.

****

Once a month I spent the weekend with my father and Jack, my 
half-brother. I normally made the short train journey to Dad’s 
house straight from school on Friday afternoon, having taken my 
clothes and other things with me in the morning. Jack, at sixteen a 
couple of years older than me, was Dad’s son from a marriage 
before he had met Mum. My father didn’t have much success with 
nuptial bliss as his relationship with my Mum had not survived 
either. He and Jack now lived with his long-term girlfriend, 
Amanda. They were all very happy and I enjoyed my weekends 
there immensely.  I particularly enjoyed the company of Amanda, 
who treated me more like a young adult compared with my Mum, 
who still acted as if I was a little girl. 

Dad and Amanda ran a catering business and sometimes had 
functions to deal with at evenings and weekends. On this particular 
evening Dad and Amanda were out providing the catering for a 
book-launching party. On similar occasions Jack and I would play 
board games, watch television or sometimes just chat and tease 
each other. It was cool. Jack at sixteen was very handsome – tall, 
athletic, deep blue eyes and fair hair. He had a really nice smile. 
Judging by the number of phone calls he received from different 
girls he was clearly a very popular boy. And yet he wasn’t 
conceited or vain at all. He was kind and considerate and really 
great fun to be with. I was very lucky to have him as a brother.

We had spent the early evening eating sandwiches and drinking 
Coke, then watching TV, interspersed with phone calls for Jack 
from Karen and Carol. I teased him about his girlfriends and he 
ruffled my hair. “Anyway, my pretty little sister, I bet you’ve got 
half the boys in your school drooling over you,” he said.

I blushed and told him not to be daft. I was much too shy to 
contemplate having a boyfriend, although some of my classmates 
had started going out on dates. Some of them had even kissed, and 
it was rumoured that one girl, Patty, had let a boy touch her down 
there, and that she had touched his thing as well. But that would 
never be me! No, he was definitely wrong about boys fancying me, 
but I was thrilled to hear him call me his pretty little sister.

“By the way,” Jack said. “Amanda told me to let you know that 
she’s left a little present for you in your dressing table drawer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before, you big oaf!” I answered, throwing 
a cushion at him. He caught it easily, giving me a huge grin in 
reply.

I walked upstairs to my bedroom. Although the smallest bedroom 
in the house, I thought it was really great that Dad and Amanda 
kept this room just for me, considering that I was only here for two 
nights every month. There was a single bed, a nice dressing table, a 
small desk and chair and on a shelf there was my own television 
and music system. On the other wall was a wardrobe with doors 
consisting of full length mirrors. They had let me choose the 
wallpaper, and the duvet cover as well as the curtains. I really loved 
this room – it was tons better than my room at Mum’s house.

I opened my dressing table drawer and found a small, neatly 
wrapped package. There was a card attached and I recognised 
Amanda’s handwriting. I read, “I thought you’d like this. Love, 
Amanda.”

I unwrapped the package to find a beautiful matching bra and 
panties set. They were made from a shiny, silky, cream-coloured 
material. The panties were cut high at the leg and were lace 
trimmed. The bra was low cut and was also lace trimmed. The cups 
were slightly padded. This was proper, grown-up underwear, a far 
cry from the school-girlish full knickers and trainer-type bras that 
Mum bought for me. I touched the panties to my face and felt the 
cool, light fabric brush against my cheek. These were the most 
wonderful things I had ever seen.

I just had to try them on. I undressed and put on my new 
underwear. The cool, slinky fabric felt wonderful against my skin. 
The bra pushed my small, developing breasts forward and I looked 
into the dressing table mirror at a figure I didn’t recognise. I had 
cleavage! Not only that, but the shape and fabric of the panties 
accentuated a mound in my pubic area that I had never noticed 
before, swelling slightly out from my lower abdomen. I felt a 
strange tingly sensation all over as I looked at this new version of 
me.

I removed the bra and placed it on the dressing table. I put my 
hands to my breasts and squeezed them together, enthralled at the 
effect I could now see reflected back to me. I became aware of a 
pleasant sensation in my nipples and I noticed that they had 
become erect. What on earth caused that to happen? I twisted 
around to see how my bottom looked clothed in my new panties 
and I ran my hands over my buttocks, thrilled by the touch of my 
fingers through the silky material. I put the bra back on to see the 
outfit together again. 

Suddenly, I heard a creak on a floorboard outside the bedroom 
door, directly behind me. It could only be Jack, having come 
upstairs to use the bathroom which was the room next to mine. I 
turned around and panicked for a moment when I saw that my door 
wasn’t closed properly and so was ajar by about four inches. 
However, I quickly realised that from my position in front of the 
dressing table I couldn’t have been seen by anyone walking past 
my door as the angle was wrong. I sighed in relief and moved to 
close the door over properly.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wardrobe, I suddenly 
froze with shock. The angle may have been wrong to see me 
directly from the doorway, however I was perfectly positioned for 
my reflection to be clearly seen in the mirrored wardrobe! The 
thought that Jack could have seen me in my new underwear, 
touching my breasts and my bottom caused a rush of sensation to 
flood through me. I can only describe this as a mixture of severe 
embarrassment and intense excitement. My stomach was turning 
somersaults and my legs were trembling. God, how I prayed he 
hadn’t seen me. God, how I hoped he had!

I had my answer a moment or two later. A knock on the door was 
immediately followed by his voice. “Sam?” he said from outside. 
“I’m coming in.”

I grabbed my dressing gown from the bed and had just managed to 
tie it in front of me when he came in, closing the door behind him.

“Sam, I’m sorry – I wasn’t, you know, looking but – I mean, I 
could see -” Jack took a deep breath and regained control of his 
voice. “I could see you,” he said quietly. “Now I’d like to see you 
properly.”

We were facing each other, just a foot apart. He reached out and 
took hold of my dressing gown and untied the belt. I was rooted to 
the spot, incapable of movement. The gown fell open. He put his 
hands on my shoulders and eased the garment backwards. It slid to 
the floor.

His eyes roamed all over my body. He had seen me often in 
swimwear that didn’t cover much more than my new bra and 
panties, but somehow this was completely different. A wave of 
electricity surged through my entire body. My skin burned with a 
flush that throbbed through me with every pulse. I felt a strange 
moistness develop between my legs and for a second I thought I 
had lost control of my bladder. I could feel my nipples pulse 
against the fabric of the bra with each beat of my heart. 

“I’d like to see all of you,” Jack whispered. He walked around 
behind me and unhooked the bra. Coming back around in front of 
me again, he took hold of each strap and gently pulled them down 
my arms, dropping the garment to the floor. He reached out with a 
hand and gently stroked my small breasts, his fingers teasing each 
nipple in turn. I could only close my eyes and let the exquisite 
feelings bathe over me.

“I’m going to take off your pants, Sam,” I heard him say. I opened 
my eyes and looked into his face. I saw an expression of pure 
longing and naked desire. Mesmerised, I stood there and allowed 
him to lower my new panties to the ground, lifting each foot in turn 
until he could place them aside.

How can I describe my feelings at this point? Here I was, a strictly 
brought-up young girl whose own mother hadn’t seen her 
undressed for years, standing naked in front her brother. How can 
someone feel such shame and sublime excitement at the same time? 

“You’re beautiful,” Jack said, and I blushed again from the tips of 
my toes to my hair follicles. He ran his hand up my thigh, across 
my hip and combed his fingers through my sparse pubic hair. My 
whole body was trembling.

“Would you like to see me?” he asked quietly. I swallowed, and 
nodded an affirmation. It only a few seconds for him to peel his T 
shirt over his head, pull off his shoes and socks, then hoist down 
his jeans, lowering his underpants at the same time.

I had seen occasional photographs of male private parts; sordid, 
smutty photographs circulated around school. And of course there 
were diagrams in the Biology text books. Nothing, however, 
prepared for the sight of his penis, large and erect, standing proudly 
out from his groin at a slight upwards angle. It was both splendid 
and frightening at the same time. Unconsciously my hand reached 
out and touched his organ, immediately drawing back as if it was 
on fire. Then I reached again, this time my fingers closed gently 
around it and, following some ancient instinct, I stroked the 
foreskin slowly back and forth, back and forth. Jack groaned with 
pleasure. Or was it me? Or both of us?

“Shall we do it?” he whispered in my ear. 

Now, I may have been strictly brought up, but I knew exactly what 
“it” was. We had been through quite extensive sex education 
lessons in my school and so the purpose of his erect penis was no 
mystery to me, at least in a reproductive sense. Our class had been 
made very aware of the perils of unwanted pregnancy and sexually 
transmitted diseases and so on. On top of that, my religious 
education through the various church groups that my mother had 
made me attend dealt very thoroughly with the sinful nature of sex 
outside of marriage. I gave Jack the only answer I possibly could.

“Yes please.” I heard myself say. God help me, I even said please! 
How depraved was that? Asking you brother to do it to you – to 
“shag” you, as the more forward girls in my class would have said. 
What kind of a wanton harlot, a slut, a whore was I? What 
depraved, sinful part of me was thrilled that my brother had 
stripped me naked and now wanted to shag me?  

He led me to the bed and placed me gently down. He spread my 
legs wide apart and positioned himself above me. I could feel his 
penis push against the opening to my vagina and I released a cry of 
joy in anticipation of his next thrust, deep, deep within me…

But it was not to be. With a strangled cry he arched his back and 
his penis ejaculated his semen over my stomach and chest. I know 
now of course that the sexual excitement of the situation had 
caused him to orgasm prematurely, but at the time I was unsure of 
what had happened. Jack muttered the word “sorry,” picked up his 
T shirt and attempted to wipe me clean. With a stifled sob he 
picked up the rest of his clothes and ran into his own room, leaving 
me feeling confused, frustrated, embarrassed and utterly ashamed 
of myself. 

Neither Jack nor I mentioned that evening ever again. We avoided 
each other pretty well for the next few weekends, then slowly 
settled back down into something like the normal routine. But 
sometimes, occasionally, I caught a glimpse of him staring at me 
when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I could see the pain in his 
eyes at something we had lost, never to find again.

Me? Well, I discovered something about myself that evening. I 
realised that I was a dirty, depraved little whore who had thrown 
herself at her own brother. And, perhaps worse, whose brother had 
ultimately rejected her because she was useless, shameless and 
ugly. 

And yet if Jack had ever asked me, I knew I would have dropped 
my knickers and opened my legs for him without a moment’s 
hesitation. Thankfully, he never did.

Eventually I married my beloved Philip and his love and gentleness 
washed away much of my feelings of guilt, but the ghost of that 
evening still haunted me.

****


The following evening I left work, drove twenty miles across 
country to the beautiful little village where he now lived. I knocked 
on his door.

“Why, hello Samantha. Come in. What brings you here?” he asked. 
He had every reason to be surprised. We were not in the habit of 
dropping in on each without calling first.

“Hi Jack,” I said, leaning forward to accept his kiss on my cheek. “I 
was kind of passing and thought I’d drop in on my big brother for a 
cup of tea.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “Come in, come in!”

I settled down on his sofa while he made the tea. Jack hadn’t 
married yet although at twenty-nine he still had plenty of time. He 
lived alone in his cottage, where he also worked as a copywriter for 
an advertising agency. God, I thought as a pang of affection hit me, 
he’s even better looking than he was at sixteen.

He brought the tea tray through from the kitchen and placed it on a 
table. He looked at me and smiled. Suddenly I couldn’t hold out 
any more and burst out crying.

“My God, Sam! What’s the matter?” He sat down beside me and 
took my hand. “Is – is something wrong? Philip?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I managed to reply through the tears. “I 
don’t know how to bring it up…”

“Go on, it’s all right. You can tell me anything. You’re my pretty 
kid sister, remember?”

“Oh Jack,” I managed to say through my sobs. “It’s about that 
night? Remember? I was fourteen and..”   I had no need to go on, 
as I could see by his expression that he knew exactly what I was 
referring to.

“Oh Sam,” he said softly. “Sam. We’ve never mentioned it. I 
thought you’d forgotten.”

“Forgotten? Oh God, Jack. How could I forget? How could I forget 
the way I felt when you touched me? How I felt when I lay naked 
in your arms? How I felt when you rushed away from me, leaving 
me feeling dirty and unwanted and ashamed…” 
 
”Hush, hush,” he said, stroking my hair and wiping away the tears. 
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so very sorry. But I had to rush away, you 
must understand that. It was a stroke of incredible luck that made 
me come too early. Otherwise we would have, you know, gone all 
the way and that would have been terribly, terribly wrong. And it 
would have been my fault. And it was all my fault.”

“Oh Jack. It wasn’t all your fault. You knew that I wanted you just 
as much as you wanted me,” I pointed out.

“Well, maybe,” he replied softly. “But I am your older brother. I 
started it by coming into your room and undressing you…”

“I could have stopped you.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was responsible. My 
God, Sam, think about it – you could have got pregnant! Anyway 
you want to look at it, I nearly ruined our lives. I’m so very, very 
sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, don’t you understand?” I put my 
hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “What I want you 
to tell me is that you didn’t rush away because you hated me, 
because you thought I was dirty and ugly and useless…”

“Oh, Sam,” he interrupted me. His lips touched my face and eyes, 
kissing away the tears. “Is that what you think? Don’t you realise 
that you were the most beautiful sight I have ever experienced? 
Don’t you know that there isn’t a single day when I don’t close my 
eyes and recall the vision of me undressing you, as vividly as if it 
was yesterday? I can still picture every line, every curve, every 
inch of you. Whenever I, you know, did it to myself like boys do...” 
He hesitated here as he blushed a deep crimson colour. “Well, it 
was you I fantasised about whenever I did that. You, just as you 
were that day. I’ve relived the entire experience a thousand times, 
except that instead of coming too early I enter you properly and 
make love to you with slow, deep, powerful strokes again and 
again and again until we cry out as we orgasm together...”

He paused, and I realised that he was reliving his fantasy right there 
and then. I stood up from the settee.

“Undress me, Jack,” I heard myself say.

“Sam, please, we mustn’t…” His words signified refusal, bit his 
eyes did not agree. He raised himself for his seated position.

I stepped forward and kissed him full on the lips. “Oh my God, 
Sam,” he whispered, “Oh my God.”

“Undress me. Make me naked again. Make love to me,” I said.

His fingers shook as he unbuttoned my blouse. He pulled it free 
from the waistband of my skirt and removed it. He lowered the zip 
fastener and pushed my skirt down, over my thighs until it slumped 
around my ankles. I kicked it clear as he removed my bra, then bent 
down to take off my panties. I was naked, wonderfully, deliciously 
stark naked.  He stood up straight and looked at me. Stared at me. 
My skin shivered with excitement. My nipples were quivering as 
wave after wave of exquisite sensations flowed through my breasts 
to their pink tips until I thought they would burst with excitement. I 
felt the same moistness seep between my legs that I had 
experienced once before, all those years ago.

“Oh Sam,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re even 
more beautiful than I remember.” 

I couldn’t help myself. For the first time in my life I started to 
undress a man. I tugged at his belt and his trouser button and 
unzipped his fly. I yanked down his trousers and his boxer shorts to 
reveal his male organ. I gasped at the sight of his erect penis and 
the sway of his testicles as they pulsed against his tight scrotum. 
The sheer animal sexuality of his arousal caused a flood of desire to 
rush through my stomach, enter my groin and into my most 
intimate parts. I could feel the moisture between my legs flow 
down my upper thigh and I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was 
actually dripping. I didn’t care.

“Oh Jack. You’re even bigger than I remember,” I said with a little 
giggle. He laughed then removed the rest of his clothes. 

“Shall we do it?” he asked, repeating his question from thirteen 
years before.

“Yes please,” I replied.

He lay me on the top and spread my legs apart. He entered me 
easily, slowly lowering himself until I could feel the tip of his penis 
caress a part deep inside me that had never been touched before. I 
groaned as he started to move in and out in a slow, controlled 
manner. I, on other hand, had lost all control. I bounced my hips up 
and down and pulled on his buttocks in an attempt to bury him ever 
further inside me. A feeling of pure ecstasy entered into my 
consciousness, originating from somewhere outside of me. I felt it 
approaching nearer and nearer, like a huge wave advancing on the 
seashore. Closer and closer it came until it entered into me, 
completely occupying every nerve, every cell, every fibre of my 
being. I groaned in rapture again and again, in time with the surges 
of intense pleasure that racked my body. I became aware that Jack 
was voicing deep, powerful groans to match my own. Then he 
shuddered and shook and I could actually feel stream after stream 
of his semen enter into me as he climaxed. I let out a yell as a final, 
overwhelming surge of ecstasy exploded throughout my body. 

We lay there for some minutes, holding each other close. 
Eventually I asked, “Jack, what would you say if I told you that 
was my first ever orgasm?” 

“You mean your first, second, third and … Good grief, you aren’t 
serious are you?”

“Yes I am.” As he held me, I told him about my hang-ups with sex 
which had affected me all of my adult life. I explained that I loved 
my husband very much and wanted more than anything in the 
world to share with him the kind of joy that Jack and I had just 
achieved in each other’s arms, but that we were both very 
inexperienced and too shy to even discuss sex with each other.

“How on earth can I just suddenly act differently with him?” I 
asked Jack.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you try something like this…” and he 
proceeded to demonstrate, which was really very enjoyable.

****

“Hi darling,” I shouted downstairs as Philip entered the house. “I’m 
upstairs. Come up and join me.” It was Friday evening, my 
favourite time of the week because it brought my husband back 
home to me.

“Wow, you look nice,” he said, bending over to kiss me. I do look 
nice, I thought, not just because of the pretty cotton summer dress 
but also because there seemed to be a fresh glow to my skin since 
my visit with Jack two days before. I was naked underneath the 
dress, and I blushed at what Philips reaction might be.

“Sit down here beside me, darling,” I said, patting a space beside 
me on top of the bed. “I want to talk to you about something, but 
it’s a bit embarrassing and I don’t really know where to start.”

He smiled and took my hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart,” 
he said. “I’m your husband. We talk about everything for goodness 
sake!”

“Even about sex?” I asked. That stopped him in his tracks. We had 
never talked about sex, not even once. 

He swallowed hard. “Well, that’s because I know that the subject 
embarrasses you, Sam. And I wouldn’t, you know, ever want to 
make you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“Well, I need to talk about this, Philip, embarrassing or not. I have 
a little story to tell you. Here goes,” I took a deep breath and 
started.

“I was taking a bath the other night, when I started to read an 
article in a woman’s magazine about certain parts of the female 
body. It mentioned a part called the clit, er, the clitoris.” I was now 
blushing. “I had never heard of it before. Anyway, the article said 
that this was the source of most woman’s pleasure, if you see what 
I mean, and it described how to touch it to get, you know… There 
was even a diagram to show its position on a woman’s body.”

Was it my imagination or did I notice a thin smear of perspiration 
on Philip’s brow? I continued, “Well, as I said, I was lying in the 
bath. After reading the article and studying the drawing I thought 
I’d see if I had one, you know, a clit, a..” 
 
”A clitoris?” he added helpfully. I’m sure his hand was trembling 
slightly now.

“Yes. Well, I was feeling myself down there trying to find it when I 
must have hit the spot if you see what I mean, because suddenly I 
felt a wonderful glow all through me. I had to carry on stroking and 
touching myself, I simply couldn’t stop. All of a sudden something 
happened to me that has never happened before. I – I’m pretty sure 
I had an orgasm. I’m so sorry darling, you must think I’m a really 
dirty person.

“Oh my sweetheart,” he said, reaching over to touch my cheek. 
“You mean you’ve never had one before? Not even, you know, by 
yourself? I know that when we have sex you don’t enjoy it much, 
but I always assumed that you did it for yourself later on, or during 
the week when I wasn’t here. Oh my God, what a useless husband 
I’ve been!”

“Oh no darling, it’s not you, it’s me! I’ve been a useless wife, 
disliking sex, not trying to satisfy you or anything. I’m the one 
who’s sorry! Anyway, there’s no point in beating ourselves up 
about it. We should try to make it better.” I smiled at him and he 
smiled back. It was going to be OK, I could tell. His hands moved 
to my waist and caressed my skin through the fabric of the dress. 

“What are you wearing under that dress?” He asked in a surprised 
tone.

“Nothing,” I answered.

“Why ever not?”

“Because I thought that now I know about where my clit.., er my 
clitoris is, you might like to touch it.”

“Oh I might, might I?” he said, wearing a huge grin. 

I took his hand and placed it under my dress. I parted my legs 
slightly. I positioned his hand so that his fingers were in the right 
area. “It’s somewhere about there, I think. Oh my God, yes, that’s 
it. Oh God, Philip! Oh God!” 

He stopped. “Sam, I’d better take off your dress and make love to 
you right now, otherwise I’m going to make an embarrassing mess 
in my trousers,” he said breathlessly.

“Oh yes, Philip!” I said. “Let’s make love!”

And we did. My God, we did. All weekend