Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Sex Ed 317 or "How Strengthen A Marriage"

   By the Troubador



   The fire was warm and welcome, in the big fireplace, something I had
only half expected.  This was late August after all, and even this far
North the days were not only long but also very warm.

   I guess there were more than a dozen men seated around the great room,
enjoying the fire and male company.  Far as I knew there wasn't a real life
feminine curvy woman within two hundred miles of this place.  Probably some
native encampments weren't much farther than that, and Lost Mule was just
over that to the Southeast.

   We were in a fly-in fishing lodge, Crazy Charley's to be exact, smack
dab in the middle of the mountains covering Western Canada.  Far as I knew
everyone was having the time of their lives.  At least according to their
stories, or lies, we had all harvested all the fish the law allowed.  Now
it was time to take a break after four 'hard' days canoeing and hiking to
fishing spots around the area.  This was the first time everyone had
assembled together and tomorrow morning we were all flying out.  Separate
airplanes of course since we were going separate directions.  Crazy Charley
had done this before, so I trusted he had some answer to the potential Air
Traffic Control problem.

   It wasn't late yet, but some of the guys were getting restive.  One
loud-mouthed jerk had shifted the stories to women.  Now all guys like to
talk about women, but after a certain age they don't get into particular
women.  A lot of reasons for that, the most respectable being that we did
indeed now know, after the chaos of puberty, that all women were
individuals and most deserved our respect.  The least admitted reason was
we didn't want to get our asses kicked, sliced, diced and/or shot.  That
last was a distinct possibility as most of us were carrying belt guns.  Not
to protect ourselves against the Grizzlies that we occasionally saw, but
hopefully to make enough noise that we could scare them away.

   And if that didn't scare them away, hopefully some of our fellow
fishermen would be able to find the remains and send them home to the women
we didn't appreciate someone else talking about.

   Most of us were too settled into the big upholstered armchairs to be
driven away.  Unfortunately my son, the one who was treating me to the
trip, wasn't one of them.  He got up almost as soon as the talk turned to
women and left.

   I scooted back in my chair, nursing my scotch and listened without
comment.

   As expected the loud mouth ended up monopolizing the bragging.  Until
one of the younger guys got tired of listening to his talk of meet 'em, bed
'em and leave 'em and suggested that I, in my position as eldest bull in
this herd might have something to add.

   For some reason it struck a chord among those gathered and there was a
thoughtful pause as all eyes turned to me.

   I snorted, took a sip of my scotch and started to make a particularly
scathing comment.  Then a memory popped up, and it dawned on me that it
might be of some use here.  Maybe even loud mouth would listen and learn.
Doubtful, but it was worth a try.

   "Well, fellas.  It's been some years since I was a young bull, or even a
mature bull like you fellas.  Yet maybe I have a story you'd get something
out of.  Listening to the stories here tonight, I'm afraid it's not on the
same level, but it kind of shows something about the way womenfolk work. 
And that knowledge, earned long before this thing took place, has come in
'good stead' to me.  Whatever good stead means!"

   The Story

   "My kids were all grown, my wife had died, and I was in that age when
the miracle drug, Viagra, was sometimes needed.  Sometimes not, but to be
safe should be taken when you weren't sure, or you might very well be
sorry."

   "I was living in a small house, three bedroom rambler, in a small
collection of newish homes all constructed in the same year.  You all know
the kind, a bedroom community, mostly young couples with lots of kids, and
all clustered around one road that curved away from the county road, then
returned to it a city block further on.  A couple dozen homes on both sides
of the street, with a kind of village green between the county road and the
homes on that side of the half circle road.

   "We had an eight foot fence blocking what was almost an acre of green
space from the county road, with fences behind the homes backing up to it.
The kids had a great place to play.  As a group we had added a barbecue
pit, some picnic benches, and the builder had thrown in swings, slides,
climbing contraptions and what all for the kids.  It had been a nice
attraction for the young families, a local kids park all their own.  For me
too, I liked watching kids play now in my retirement and afternoons in
season I was the de facto baseball/softball/soccer/basketball referee,
umpire or what have you.  I even got asked to skip rope and play hopscotch.
Kept me young.

   "Young hell!  They kept running my ass off!

   "But it was fun, kept me in some kind of shape, and much as I like to
read it gave me something to do that kept me out of trouble.

   "Some smart cookie decided we needed a community party, and everybody
either enthusiastically loved the idea or kept their mouths shut.  So we
all pitched in and scheduled a big blow out.  It was to start on Friday
evening, the week before Labor Day, when we would have a barbecue.  When it
got dark they planned to gather up the younger kids and settle them down in
the rec.  rooms of two houses across the street from our park; boys would
be in one house, girls in another and the houses were separated by three
other homes.  A couple of the young teens were assigned to each 'barracks'
to keep order.

   Two of the guys got together and cobbled up a 'dance floor'; two by four
frames supporting plywood sheets.  And damn if it didn't work well.  I was
kind of the elder statesman, lending a hand where it was needed, but mostly
having a grand time with the kids and teasing the ladies.

   "After the kids were down, a bar was set up, serve yourself, a long
extension cord was run from the back of one of the homes and a someone's
stereo was set up to provide music.  Quite an eclectic mix of music, I even
snuck some of my swing music collection in.  Surprised me that everyone
seemed to like it.  But what's not to like about the Count, the Duke and
the King.  Of course I had some real laid back stuff too, like the Ink
Spots, Ames Brothers, Ella and "The Sassy Miss Sarah Vaughn".

   "Sometime around 10:00/10:30 I realized I had a shadow.  Abie, one of
the young wives that had just moved in seemed to be tagging along where
ever I wandered.  This was certainly no hardship.  She was dressed in what
I called tan shorts, but probably had some more exotic name that told women
precisely what the color was.  To me it was tan.  She was wearing a thin,
very pale green sleeveless top with wide lapels.  The buttons only came up
to just below her breasts, but the fabric was cut to meet almost all the
way to her throat.  It was just long enough to cover her to the top of her
shorts.  When she bent or turned an entrancing strip of tanned flesh was
exposed between the blouse and those shorts.  Even more interesting, when
she bent forward the neckline fell open from her throat down, showing some
of her cleavage.  Her arms, nicely rounded and pretty, were shown off and
that hint of cleavage, though very modest, made all the men crane their
necks to see if he couldn't get a deeper glimpse down that cleft.  White
boat shoes with no socks completed her ensemble.

   And, yeah.  I was spraining my neck to see, too.

   Abie was early 20's, slim but curved appropriately, soft brown hair that
seemed always to have been just brushed before the wind blew a couple
tendrils loose.  She wasn't much shorter than my 5' 8", and had a killer
smile, which always seemed to be turned on.  Her legs reached all the way
from the ground up to where they joined a perfect derriere.  I didn't know
about the other men in our little community, but seeing her always made my
day a little brighter.

   Smart, too!  She and I had a bunch of slangfests, which she won as often
as not.  So her presence certainly wasn't unwelcome.

   I had been sipping on a brandy all evening.  Nice and smooth, it just
kept me kind of loose.  Abie on the other hand was hitting Vodka Martini's
pretty steadily.  Being a small girl, she was definitely beyond the feel
good stage.

   Along about 11:15 I got around to asking where her husband Harry was. 
Turns out his boss had sent the good man off on a trouble shooting trip
Thursday and he wasn't expected back home until Wednesday or the coming
Thursday.

   The good part was that Harry was going to be given a five-day weekend
when he got back, maybe even taking the whole four days after Labor Day off
to give them a week off.  They were planning a camping trip, but tonight
Abie was lonely.  They hadn't been in their new house more than six weeks,
and Abie didn't feel like she really knew any of the neighbors except me.
The poor woman was afraid of the other husbands, even though their wives
were with them so she stuck with me for safety.

   Needless to say, this was not an ego booster.  Yet at the same time it
made me feel good.  Would have been nice to have an attractive young thing
like her think I might have SOME sex appeal but, what the hey, what I got
wasn't all that bad.

   As the evening progressed, I snuck in a few dances with some of he other
women, being sure to pick something where I wouldn't embarrass myself too
badly.  Toward the end of the evening, which was fast reaching its ending
for me, Abie and I enjoyed a few of he slower numbers ourselves.

   She was a tremendous dancer!  Light and soft in my arms, seeming to know
before I did the maneuver I was going to try next.  As a result we moved as
one on the floor.  She was only the third woman with which I had
experienced such propinquity.  My own mother was the first, my wife the
second.  Harry was lucky I was old enough to be Abie's grandfather, I sure
would have been after her.

   Dancing with the little nymph was a delight, not only for the rhythm but
also for the full body hug her now inebriated body was gifting to me.  I
have no idea if she was aware of it, in her besotted state, but she was
giving my dumb handle excellent exercise.  He hadn't done chin-ups like
this for years or should I call them sit-ups.  I'm not that long.

   Sometime around 1:00 I started saying goodnight to everybody, it was
long past my bedtime.  Finally I poured myself my last toddy of brandy for
the night and strolled across the grassy park under the moon.  The stars
were out, the evening warm, the music mellow, and so was I.

   I must have been a little befuddled myself.  It wasn't until I opened
the gate into my backyard, which opened onto the park that I realized Abie
had followed me home.  It was a temptation to just figure she was a stray
and I should keep her, at least overnight.  That didn't seem fair under the
circumstances.  I mean she had been hanging around me to keep her safe, and
surprisingly enough I still had some scruples left after all these years.

   "Abie, I'm calling the evening over, do you want me to walk you home?"

   "No, I can get there myself, but can I come in for a minute.  Just talk,
would that be OK?" was her answer.  So I escorted her inside, turning the
heat on under the teapot as I walked through the kitchen.

   Abie was still sucking on a Vodka Martini.  She looked pretty much in
the bag, and I was a little worried about her.  I turned the indirect
lighting on low that ran along the ceiling on the inside wall.  Then sat on
the couch next to her before asking, "You going to be alright tonight,
girl?"

   Damned if she didn't start to tear up!  Turning to me she kind of threw
herself on my shoulder and asked me, "What's wrong with me?  Why can't I be
a good lover?"

   After that showstopper, she really began sobbing.  Oh sweet Jesus, what
did I have here?  If this wasn't a situation, I didn't know what was.

   Holding her gently while she cried, and frantically trying to think of
some kind of an answer, I finally figured out I needed more information. 
Guess I either took a double dose of my dumb pills today, or had sipped
more Scotch than I realized.

   "Abie, why in the world do you ask me that?  You are a beautiful girl!
What's wrong?"

   "Harry says I'm OK, but he doesn't act like it.  When we make love he
pets me a little, then we have sex, he rolls off me, holds me for just a
moment and goes to sleep." She sobbed for a moment, "I'm so horny when he
goes to sleep I could kill!  Why can't I really enjoy sex, Duncan?  Why am
I frigid?  Harry says I am a good lover, but he never really looks
satisfied.  After he's done he always asks me if I liked it!  Why doesn't
he know?  What' wrong with me?  Why can't I really enjoy sex?" She buried
her face in my shoulder and hiccuped a few times before continuing, "I
mean, I like making love with Harry, I just don't finish like all my girl
friends say they do.  What's wrong Duncan, why can't I be a complete woman?
What am I doing wrong?"

   "Abie, are you sure you should be asking me this question?  You've only
known me a little over a month.  How about your mother, or some other woman
you trust?  For heavens sake, why not talk to Harry about this?  He's your
husband, don't you talk together?  Don't you tell each other what you like
and don't like, how to make you feel good?  How about Harry, what has he
told you he likes you to do to him?"

   "Duncan, my mom lives across the country, and we never talked about
things like this.  I'd be too ashamed to even bring it up.  And all my girl
friends just talk about how great the sex is for them.  How can I tell them
I don't know what great sex really feels like.  I mean, they talk about
seeing stars, and moons, and having earthquakes.  One of my friends says
she keeps ripping the pillow apart with her teeth to keep from screaming
and waking up the kids and her neighbors.  How can I tell her I have no
idea what she's screaming about?"

   "Duncan, I know you only met me when we moved in, but everyone knows how
helpful you are, and you are so wise, you always seem to know the answer to
peoples problems.  Duncan, I can't go to my pastor, he just tells people to
have more trust in Jesus.  How's that going to help me make my husband
happy?  I don't know ANYONE to ask.  Except you!  Please, Duncan, I know
this is crazy but I don't know where else to turn."

   I held her quietly as her sobs slowly quieted.  After a long while she
was snuggling into my shoulder, burrowing her face into my chest and
holding me tight.

   "Abie, why don't you tell me about it?" I asked, turning her away from
my shoulder to lay back on my lap, facing me.  She was resting on my right
arm, the arm then slipping down her back until its hand cupped her right
buttock.  My left hand now rested on her thigh and her breast pressed
solidly into my ribs.  Those long legs of hers stretched out along the
couch, the lower knee bent and pushed up against the back.  The upper leg
was straight, her ankle passing over the left ankle, that foot flat against
the arm on the opposite end of he couch.  Her chin tilted up, hair
streaming over my arm, her eyes blinking away the last of her tears as she
shyly looked up at me.

   Smoothing her hair back from her brow, I then softly stroked the side of
her face before beginning to trace the curve of her jaw from under her ear
to her lips.

   "What do you, mean?  He just, 'makes love to me'."

   "For instance, does he hold you like this at all?  Does he follow your
curves, like this?" I asked, running my hand along her side to her hip,
then making lazy little circles over the back of her shorts.  "Doesn't he
give you little kisses, like this?" and I leaned down to give her tiny
butterfly kisses on her brow, cheeks and nose.  Very softly, very quick
gentle touches, moving each kiss to a different spot.  In a moment her
breathing was picking up and I noticed her eyes dilating slightly.

   "N-n-no!  Nothing like that," she stuttered as I slowed the kisses but
didn't stop.  "Nothing like that, he just...Well, he just makes LOVE to
me."

   "OK," I said.  "Does he do this?" I lifted my hand from where it was
still making intricate circles on her hip where the flesh appeared from
under the tan shorts, then began tracing arcane patterns on her upper arm.

   She shivered under my slow, slowly moving finger, "He's never done any
of those things." She blushed, "He just MAKES LOVE to me."

   I sat back to think for a moment as I continued tracing the alphabet on
her arm from where the arm emerged naked from under her green blouse, all
the way to the back of her hand.  I noticed her arm in the trail my fingers
made was covered with pleasure bumps.

   Watching her for a moment, enjoying the slight glaze I could see now in
her eyes in the dim light.  I picked up her right hand from where it was
lying easily atop her left wrist in her lap.  Deftly preventing her from
taking my hand in hers, I lay it in her cleavage.

   Slowly I began tracing down the back of her little finger.  So softly as
to hardly be felt.  I could feel the soft down on the back of her finger.
Down and back, down and back I traced the finger, before continuing on down
to run my finger around the tip of little finger, than up the outside all
the way to the palm, then back.  Pulling her finger gently in the air my
inspection and exploration continued to the web between that and the index
finger, then back.  Finally I held the little finger in a circle made of
all four of mine.  Tracing it, pulling softly, squeezing lovingly, I made
gentle love to just her little finger, finally kissing the ball of that
tiny appendage with the balls of all my fingers.  Enjoying the difficulty
she was having breathing as she was inundated with these totally unexpected
sensations.  Feelings she had never suspected could be aroused.

   Knowing we had all night, and all day if needed, I continued on to
pleasure her ring finger, and then the others.  Abie seemed to be
mesmerized as I proceeded.  The back of my knuckles were constantly making
little 'accidental' touches where the blouse was now pushed back to leave
the cleavage between her breast exposed.

   Some unknown time later, I lifted my hand from hers, lifting her chin
gently to look into her eyes.  "No loving like that, Abie?" She stared into
my eyes with wonder, but all she could do was give a little shake of her
head.

   Using just the tips of my fingers, I began tracing her cheek, from her
brow to the corner of her lips.  Then I followed the line of her jaw from
under one ear, around under her lips to under the other ear.  Then
repeating, I started at the other side.  Her eyes closed and I could swear
she purred.

   When my fingers dropped down and I began making lazy curlicues and
spirals on the soft flesh beneath her jaw her breathing slowed and almost
ceased for a moment, until she gave a great gasp when the oxygen
deprivation became too great.  But breathing didn't return to normal even
then.

   When my fingertips dropped to began tracing the hollow of her throat,
her jaw lifted to give me more room.  Being careful to remain only on the
flesh being offered by the opening in her collar.  I took my time touching
and pleasuring the soft, warm flesh there on display.

   She seemed to be spellbound when my hand left her décolletage and I
lifted her right arm by softly and firmly grasping her wrist.  Carefully
lifting it over her head I left it there, the forearm lying atop her soft
brown hair, shining in the dim romantic light, her wrist and hand resting
on the back of the sofa.

   Tracing my fingers down the top of the arm now lying above her head, I
followed down the inside of her bicep, then onto the infinitely sensitive
skin of her underarm.  Noting how smoothly it was shaven, I so slowly,
s-l-o-w-l-y began exploring the area.  It was a part of her body I believed
no one but she had been allowed to even touch without a struggle. 
Unconsciously she was giving it up to me, secure in her trust that I would
do her no harm.

   As I did my magic there, I asked her, "Is this making love, Abie?"

   Her eyes were shut tight, her face a mask of concentration as she
savored the alien, unexpected sensations.  She slowly nodded her head.

   "Has Harry ever done this?" I asked.

   Again her head moved, this time shaking 'no' ever so slowly.

   "If he did, would you be ready to make love now?" I asked.

   Her eyes opened, locked on mine and her lips moved.  They seemed to
purse first, as if asking for a kiss, before she said, "Yes, oh yes.  I am
so ready now."

   "If I were your lover, would I be ready now," I asked, knowing she could
feel the solid, pulsing manhood lying under her left hip.

   Her eyes still locked on mine, her voice stronger, she slowly nodded her
head as she answered, "Yes!" while wiggling her body over my erection.

   Then she shifted her weight, until my shaft was better accommodated and
more firmly lying against her.

   Smiling slowly, I moved my right hand to rest against her lower tummy,
cupping it softly, my fingers now beginning a gentle tattoo on her belly
under her blouse.  Each finger individually, playing her like a fine piano.
I could feel the tune beginning where she lay against me.

   My free left hand moved to the top button of her blouse, which was
holding the blouse from further displaying the vee of her cleavage.  Her
eyes remained locked to mine, her breathing shallow and fast.  Slowly,
deliberately I turned the button, and slipped it out of its hole.  Delaying
a moment while we looked one another in the eyes, I moved my hand to the
next button and repeated my action.

   I did not move my eyes until the fourth and last button was released and
her blouse began to slide open.  Very deliberately my eyes moved down to
watch as the blouse revealed her soft belly and the swell of her breasts in
their bra cups.  Drinking in her soft curves, my hand moved to push the
sides of the garment until they fell to either side of her desirable body.

   Slowly, inexorably I leaned forward.  My eyes were now fixed on her
lips; my tongue licking my own.  Just before my lips met hers I stopped. 
My eyes now on hers, I moved the tip of my tongue to just touch her lips.
Slowly, gently running just the tip of my tongue along her lips, I traced
the join of her red, now pouty lips.  Again and over again I tasted her. 
It had been hours since she had applied her make-up; still I enjoyed the
flavor of the vestiges of her lipstick.

   With my left hand I now slowly, oh so slowly traced the join of her
breasts to her body.  Gently, giving her nerve endings time to savor each
part newly being touched and anticipate the next movement.

   She shuddered under my touch and her lips opened a trifle.

   Leaning closer, I kissed the corner of her mouth, my tongue tasting her
again inside the kiss.  Then I gave a soft, fairy-light kiss to her pouting
lips, quickly shifting my lips to the other corner and tasting her again.

   Leaning back for a moment I ran a finger along those lips, teasing them
open then slowly and lovingly pushing my finger into her mouth.  I pushed
it in, pulled it out, then gently thrusted it into her mouth again, and
again, and again.

   She moaned.  I bent forward, laying soft, quick, gentle kisses all over
her face until she shivered and one hand came to cup the back of my head to
pull me closer.

   I obliged, sealing my mouth to hers, driving my tongue into her mouth
and slowly, thoroughly ravaged hers.

   My left hand was now cupping her breast, my fingers kneading and
milking. Spreading my fingers wide I gripped them around that breast before
firmly pulling them up, gently dragging her tit up from her chest.  At
last, as my tongue was claiming her mouth, my hand with the tips of my
fingers had grasped her areola pulling her nipple up away from the white
loveliness of her mound.  Pulling softly, twisting, gently and lovingly I
pinched her nipple as I pulled it away from her body.

   Then, letting go I dropped my hand to cup her tit with my palm.  Again
grasping the base of her mound with my fingers I rubbed my palm firmly over
her nipple which now was a hot bullet pushing through into my hand.

   As my hand continued giving her sensation I dropped my face to bury it
in her cleavage, my tongue snaking out to lick and taste the hot sensitive
valley between her breasts.

   She was moaning again, her hips now gyrating, trying to push themselves
against something that wasn't there.

   My hands now occupied both her breasts, pulling them, kneading them,
rolling the nipple firmly but roughly.  I was slobbering over her cleavage,
letting her feel the moisture.  Then I sucked her left tit into my mouth,
trying to pull it all into my mouth, lashing the nipple with my tongue.

   Her hand now tried pulling my face harder into her chest.  Her arousal
was strumming her body, and I shot my hand down, shoving it without
hesitation directly under the waistband of her tan shorts and under her
panties.  Swiftly my hand pushed past the welcoming bush until with just
the tip of my middle finger I reached out and pressed atop her clitorus. 
It was the first touch tonight.  Holding it there I kept it stationary but
pushed and pulled the tender bud up, around and down using only the pad of
my finger.  Handling it gently.

   Without warning, her body went into convulsions!  I sucked hard on her
tit, holding her body tight to mine with the arm locked under and around
her, felt and watched her ride her orgasm.

   At first all her breath huffed out of her, and it was a moment before
she could draw it back in.  Finally she screamed!  It came out from deep
inside, harsh and loud.  I knew her throat would be sore tomorrow from that
one single tribute to my lovemaking.

   The orgasm lasted long minutes, until I thought it best that I stop
adding to her sensations, just holding my hand still and moving my lips to
her mouth, where I kissed her gently and tenderly.

   When she began relaxing, after the aftershocks too numerous to mention
quit surging through her unexpecting body I gently pulled her upright on my
lap.  Swiftly I ran my left hand along her collar bone and down her right
arm, pushing and carrying her blouse and bra with it, where I slipped them
gently off her hand.  Then I ran that hand up her back, cupping the back of
her neck.  Cradling her back away from my body I ran my now free right arm
in a caress down the top of her left arm to her hand, again pulling her
blouse and bra off that hand, leaving her nude above the waist.

   Trusting that she could remain sitting without my help for a moment, I
brought both hands to the waist of my blue T-shirt and yanked it off over
my head, throwing it someplace behind me.

   Then I put both hands behind her and pulled her into my embrace, her
naked breasts nestling into my chest.  There I knew they would be
stimulated by the hair on my chest.

   Leaning back, holding her upper body firmly against mine, I looked
fondly into her eyes.  When she finally focused back on my face.  I
answered her earlier questions, "That is loving, Abie.  Has Harry ever
given you that?"

   With wondering eyes, she looked down into my eyes from where she was
sitting on my lap.  "I never knew...  that could happen.  I have never...
felt...  anything like it.  I had no idea..." she murmured in a voice
filled with awe.

   "Don't worry Abie, I can show you how to teach Harry how to do that. 
And do it such that he doesn't know you are teaching him.  Do you think we
can do that?"

   She just looked at me, wonderingly.

   "Abie, that was loving.  That was not love.  Don't confuse the two. 
What you felt was wondrous, but it can't compare to making love with the
one you love.  Don't get confused.  Do you understand?  What we just did
was marvelous, but it can be so much better.  Do you think you would like
to learn how to teach that to Harry?"

   She looked searchingly into my eyes, hers shifting from eye to eye,
looking for some hint of duplicity.  After a while, seeing only fondness
and sincerity she slowly nodded her head.

   Slowly, making every move obvious, letting her understand and stop me at
any time, I lay her back on the couch.  Leaning forward I kissed her.  When
her mouth opened to mine I deepened the kiss and when her arms came up
around my neck I began unfastening her shorts.

   It took me a while to do so, but when I was finished I leaned away from
her and slowly began slipping the shorts and panties down her legs, making
sure I kept eye contact while I did it.

   Once she was undressed, I had slipped the shoes off with the shorts and
panties, I leaned forward to kiss her while moving myself between her
thighs.  Her only reaction was to widen her legs.

   Holding myself up on one arm I grasped my rock hard piston and slowly
moved the big plum shaped head up and down her slit.  Her juices were
soaking my sofa her labia parted and pouted open as soon as my cockhead
told them what to do.

   Then, while holding myself on my elbows, my chest lightly brushing he
erect nipples, I slowly slid my length into her.  Her sheath was hot and
wet.  It was also tight, rippling contractions running along my shaft as I
gloried in pushing into and filling her femaleness.

   When I felt a resistance against the tip of my length our pubes were
just beginning to mesh.  Her labia had clasped and loved me the entire time
I was entering her center.  Slowly letting my weight drop onto her, she
seemed to welcome it by locking her ankles around by ass and pulling me
hard to her with her arms.  Once she had taken my weight, I twisted my
body, giving her a whole body hug.

   For a moment I held still, looking into her eyes.

   She reached up and kissed me.

   I asked if she was sure.  At her nod I told her of my vasectomy and
assured her of my being disease free.

   She looked astonished for a moment, ten giggled, "It never crossed my
mind that there would be a problem like that with you!"

   It wasn't long before Abie's hips began moving, slowly pumping my shaft
which was filling her so nicely.  When she did I began slowly moving in and
out of her, stopping every so often when driven deepest inside her to churn
my erection deep inside her, pleasuring her deep, even pushing harder
against her.  It was only moments before her body began to shake and her
channel spasmed around my cock.  It was all I could take and I poured
myself into her.

   Then I moved myself to the side so as not to crush her, and we lay in
one another's arms, slipping into sleep for a moment.

   When I woke I pulled myself out of her, and went to fetch towels and
warm washcloths.  She was smiling at me as I returned and insisted on
cleaning me after I had carefully cleaned her.

   We held one another for a while before I carefully lifted her to stand
before me.  Pulling her into the kitchen behind me I asked, "You like
orange juice, Abie?"

   When she nodded her head yes, I pulled out the pitcher I had made
yesterday, dropped three large ice cubes into each of two tall glasses,
added a shot of vodka, then filled the sixteen ounce glasses with fresh
orange juice.

   "Here, drink this princess.  You need the liquid, the coolness and a
taste more alcohol to make your alcohol withdrawal less traumatic after
last night.  Most of all you need the sugar.  Do you like eggs?  If you do
I'll make us some scrambled eggs."

   Abie suddenly realized how late it must be.  The party had died down
hours ago.  Looking at the kitchen clock she panicked.  Then she looking
down at herself, the reality of being naked in a strange house broke
through her consciousness.

   She cupped both hands over her breasts, which was tough holding that
cold drink in one hand, then backed up a step and started to turn to leave
the kitchen.  I reached to take the glass out of her hand, and firmly,
gently took her arm.  "It's after 4:30, and you don't want to be seen
leaving my house and heading for yours this time of the morning.  Your
husband isn't home, and no one knows you are here."

   Pulling her gently over to sit at the kitchen table I continued, "No one
knows you are here.  No one is going to call or come by until probably noon
at the earliest.  Sit down, drink your orange juice and don't panic!  Let
me make you something to eat, you will feel better on a full stomach.  We
can talk or play cards or read the newspaper until you can leave without
catching anyone's attention."

   Looking up at me pleadingly for a moment, she finally nodded her
understanding.  Taking that as a go ahead, I busied myself with biscuit mix
and eggs.  In fifteen minutes we had our eggs and biscuits on the table,
fresh coffee and a cheerier attitude.

   Getting her to open up about her marriage, even after all we had shared
that night was really tough but I knew we had to get past this if I was to
be any help to her and Harry.  When I finally got her to talk she started
by explaining how they met.  The story was sweet and romantic, and maybe
I'll tell you about it by itself some other time.  Then I got her to tell
me how she, a virgin at her marriage bed and Harry a man with almost
nonexistent sexual experience began their lifetime cruise into intimacy.

   Harry had the usual back seat 'wham bam, thank you ma'ms' most teenagers
have.  They had been married in college, both of them having been more than
satisfied with a couple kisses while getting breasts fondled, then Abie
lying back and spreading her legs for their sex life.  Harry would work his
normal sized equipment into her, which took a few moments because she was
always dry.  Then they would pump at one another until his fountain
spurted, which never took very long.

   Afterward Harry would hold her lovingly and they would talk about their
future and how deep their love was before they both went to sleep.  The
problem Abie had complained about to me didn't come about until they had
moved here.  Several of the women were in the habit of getting together for
Bridge several times a month.  Abie was very good at the game and was a
welcome member to the group.

   So what do women talk about over their bridge hands; knitting, of
course, how to plant roses, whether the weather was going to change, who
was going to emerge the dominant figure in Balkans politics, right?  Of
course wrong!  Several of the gals were very experienced in the arts of
love.  I'll make no speculation where or when they got so familiar, but did
accept it was accurate and the knowledge was fairly won.

   The stories Abie heard were so far outside her own experience as to
dumbfound her.  Finally she began to believe her marriage was a shambles
because of her inability to respond to her husband.  It hadn't yet dawned
on her that the wonderful man she was married to, and take it from me he
was a really great guy, didn't know diddly squat about how to pleasure a
woman.

   What I had done last night was the first step in her education.  Over
the next week, Abie spent each night with me, leaving in late morning so
that the neighbors were less likely to suspect she had stayed over night.
By the third night we were taking steps not to wake the neighbors.  Abie
was a fast learner, and it wasn't taking her very long to reach her goal,
either.

   Even after Harry got back, we continued to get together over the next
few months.  Now my pretty neighbor came over around 8:30 or 9:00, heading
back home at around 11:00 or so.  She told some of the gals who asked that
she was having coffee with me while teaching me what she knew about making
a Japanese rock garden.  She actually knew quite a bit, and helped me make
one in a corner of my yard.

   Over those next few months my friend taught her husband how to pleasure
a woman.  She had learned how to truly pleasure a man, which was quite a
shock to poor Harry at first.  She explained to the confused and initially
very concerned husband that she had been reading some of her women's
magazines.  What she was doing was putting their ideas into use.  He was
satisfied with the explanation, and more than satisfied with the outcome.

   I have never pressured her to be with me, but she still comes by
occasionally for coffee in the mornings strictly on her own hook.  She
comes over every other week or so, which is about all my weary bones can
handle.  We have become very close friends, and her Harry and I are good
friends, too.  Harry and I have a date next Saturday to take in the local
colleges annual football grudge match with their closest rival.  Abie has
promised to have hot chocolate and cookies ready when her boys come home
from play.  When she told us that, she grinned and said it would be good
practice for when the twins get here in January.

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