Orgasm Lessons

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“My happiness is full and complete.”

Who would say something that insipid?

Me.

A proper writer might say I “murmured” it, though others hold that any substitute for “said” is an abomination. Did I mention that I majored in English? But let’s stick to the topic. I know I said a lame thing, even if I did murmur it.

In my defense, consider the following:

1. My age: twenty-one, a college senior.

2. Same as Sarah, my girlfriend.

3. I lay flat on my back in bed with Sarah stretched on top of me, skin to skin.

4. Both naked.

5. Me inside her.

6. Her hips rolled up and down, her juices smoothing the motion and coating me with ambrosia.

7. Did I mention stoned? We weren’t big potheads but kept some by the bed because sex.

8. I’d just sprayed a warm stream deep into Sarah’s womb.

9. I’d sighed in pure bliss. And then I’d said it.

10. I stayed hard (because young) and continued to enjoy her undulations.

11. Just when I didn’t think the night could get better, her hips began to quiver. Her whole body shuddered. Then she went limp and collapsed even further into me, our bodies almost blending.

12. It took me a while to realize what had happened. We didn’t talk about it then, but in the future she’d say, “Can we do it slow, like we did that time?”

I started my story with this perfect moment, because we’re about to take a depressing detour. Let’s rip off the bandaid: In the seven months we’d been dating, I could only be sure that Sarah came that one time. There may have been two others (she said there were, and I should believe her). We’d been together since an emotionally messy period the previous summer that left both of our then-significant others pissed off and forced our friends to choose sides. Since we were dating, not married, people mostly got over it. My own ex had acted friendly lately, even though Sarah’s former lover still glowered at me across campus.

Our sex lives had every advantage. I’d moved into an off-campus apartment with a roommate, but we had separate bedrooms. Sarah and I experienced freedom like we’d never known. The pill alleviated pregnancy worries, and she slept over most nights, so no time pressure. Weekend mornings meant hours of cuddling, kissing, necking, petting, and making love.

So how could there be a problem? Even though we had both motive and opportunity, neither of us really knew what we were doing. We thought we were having a good time, and in a way we were. Mediocre sex is still better than practically anything else, right? We truly wanted each other, but our sexual adventurousness never went further than deciding who’d be on top this time. Oral sex figured in only as foreplay, a way to make sure she was well-lubricated and I was nice and hard.

I had orgasms, of course. I’m a guy. And Sarah never complained. With hindsight – plus all that’s written about women’s sexuality today – I wonder whether she might have been either out of touch with or unable to communicate her needs. Or maybe she asked for things I couldn’t hear.

We’d both had sex with others. I won’t speak for Sarah, but I’ve realized through hindsight and therapy that three factors wrecked my relationship with my immediate ex. We had: 1) boring sex, with 2) no clue how to fix it, and 3) an utter inability to talk about it. Even Sarah had pointed out that my ex was attractive and sexy. But if a fish rots from the head (does it, really?), our relationship soured from the groin. There had been warning signs with Sarah and me – little strains, awkward silences, the occasional cold shoulder – that the same forces threatened to screw us up, as well.

But that didn’t happen, because something else did.

On the night that would change our lives, Sarah and I almost skipped the party. We’d driven an hour and a half to see a semi-professional theater production of a rarely staged early play by Eugene Ionesco. (Did I mention that she majored in English, too?) We couldn’t find anybody who wanted to join us for a three-hour round trip to sample the joys of Theater of the Absurd. One of our friends hosted a party that night. We said we’d drop by on the way home.

In the car after the play, we debated the merits of absurdism versus naturalism. (I won’t repeat our dialogue. Aren’t you grateful?) As the driver, I noticed first that a dense fog had moved in. It made driving dangerous. Even if you go slowly, you can lose track of where you are. At times I had to open my door a crack so I could follow the middle line. Sarah white-knuckled it and watched for landmarks to let us know how far we’d come.

We got to campus around one in the morning, both of us tense AF. We talked about blowing off the party, but we thought a half-hour drop-in would help us wind down. As we walked up to the townhouse where the party was being held, an acquaintance offered us a joint. Sarah looked at me. I nodded, confirming that I was the designated driver. Betturkey She could do whatever would help take the edge off.

She hit on the joint and passed it to someone who wasn’t me. I spotted another English major in the next room, the only person who’d actually seemed to have to think about whether to go with us to the play. Sarah saw some friends from dance class (her minor) in the opposite direction. We split up, saying we’d meet in half an hour.

Ninety minutes later, my friend had listened to my blow by blow of the production, whether out of genuine interest or being too high to care, I couldn’t say. I headed off to find Sarah. After roaming a bit, I heard her voice coming from the next room. “That asshole’s so full of shit. What the fuck does he think?” Sarah normally didn’t curse much, but her swear-quotient went up in relation to the number of drinks she’d had. A math major could probably graph it.

I rounded the corner to find her talking with our friend Reuben, a drama major we’d met in a Theater as Literature course that bridged our majors. We liked hanging out with him. He didn’t say too much, but we could tell he enjoyed a more adventurous sex life than ours. He and his girlfriend Darcy seemed willing to give anything a try. When Sarah got a little drunk she made it her business to pry stories out of him. He spoke more freely with her one-on-one, and she’d fill me in on details later.

Reuben spotted me. “Hey, Josh!” he said, waving. I said hi and went to give Sarah a little kiss. She surprised me by slipping in some tongue. Did I mention drinking? I gave Reuben a “what’s up?” (“same old”) and asked Sarah how she felt about heading home. She said she’d been about to look for me and had told Reuben that we’d give him a ride to his apartment. He didn’t own a car and hitched along with us often.

We found the host to say good night and headed out to the car. When we stepped outside, the word came out of all our mouths at the same time: “Fuck!” The fog had gotten even worse. It took longer to get to Reuben’s apartment than ours. I assured them that we’d go slowly and get everyone home safely.

Sarah stroked Reuben’s shoulder and said teasingly, “If you and Josh are at all attracted to each other, you could just come home with us.”

Wanting to needle her back, I said, “I’m not gonna swap spit with Reuben, but if you think you’re woman enough to take on both of us, just invite him over.”

We all laughed. “Like you could handle that,” said Sarah, putting an end to it.

“Try me,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t but wanting the last word.

I thought the subject had been dropped, until, as we got to the parking lot, Sarah asked Reuben, “Have you and Darcy had threesomes?”

His face lit up. “Oh, we had a foursome with Tom,” he answered. Tom was mutual friend who’d come out as gay freshman year, but apparently could also be up for anything. She pressed him for details. He talked as I unlocked the car. Hanging on every word, she followed him into the back seat. At first I thought, “Really?” Then I shrugged and got behind the wheel. Sure, I’d be the chauffeur. In this fog, I needed to concentrate on the road.

Truth is, their conversation distracted me mightily. Listening to Reuben’s graphic descriptions of his polyamorous sex life and feeling Sarah’s intense interest, I felt both pissed off and turned on. Net-net: confused. I braked at a four-way stop. “Here’s the turn,” I said. “What’s it gonna be?”

Neither replied for a long moment. Then Sarah spoke to Reuben so quietly I’m not sure I was supposed to hear. “Wanna come over?”

“Probably safer than driving any further than we have to in this fog, right?” Reuben answered.

“And Dave’s away, so you could always use his bed,” I said. Dave was my roommate.

“Yeah, sure,” said Sarah. She sounded disappointed. Maybe just tired. I drove straight on and within two minutes parked by my apartment. We climbed out of the car. I noticed that Sarah had kicked off her shoes and left them in the seat, something she often did, our parking lot pavement being smooth on bare feet.

When we got into the apartment, I immediately felt awkward. Neither of them seemed to have a clue about what to do next, either.

“Share a bowl?” I asked. They both agreed quickly. Sarah offered to get it from the bedroom, saying she’d been wearing that dress for hours.

“So you wanna slip into something more comfortable?” said Reuben in a campy voice.

“Mae West?” said Sarah.

“Tallulah Bankhead,” he replied in mock annoyance.

“Fucking drama majors,” she muttered as she padded off.

Alone with Reuben, I broke the silence by asking him what play he’d be in next. He said he’d auditioned for an O’Neill drama and hoped for a lead. “I gotta beef up my resume.”

At that point Sarah came out of the bedroom wearing a long tee that she used as a sleep shirt on the rare occasions we didn’t sleep nude. I could see she’d Betturkey Giriş taken off her bra, and the shirt reached just far enough to create a question about the panties.

She sat between Reuben and me on the sofa and used a lighter to flame the weed. She took a deep drag and handed it to me. “I’m losing my buzz,” she said.

“As your designated driver I never got one,” I said, taking a hit. I passed it to Reuben, who sucked in a lungful.

Sarah swung toward me and plopped her bare feet into my lap. “Tickle my feet,” she said. She smiled as I ran my nails up and down her soles.

“You like getting tickled?” Reuben seemed incredulous.

“Love it,” she said. “Different strokes, right?” Now that she faced me, I could confirm her lack of panties. Rueben started rubbing her shoulders. “Ooo. That’s nice,” she said. We worked on her feet and shoulders for several minutes.

With a quick, “Thank you, guys,” she swung her feet onto the floor and stood up. “Bedtime for me.” She gave me a peck on the lips and did the same to him. “See you…whenever,” she said as she walked off. The t-shirt had climbed her ass several inches, leaving us with no doubt that her dance classes kept her in good shape.

Reuben and I sat in silence for several seconds. The next move fell to me. On the one hand I could miss a fantastic opportunity, on the other I could make a ruinous mistake. I stood and said, “Dave’s room’s over here.” The doors to the two bedrooms adjoined in the corner.

When I opened the door to my bedroom I found Sarah seated cross-legged on the bed. I stepped through and waited just inside. She looked at me, uncertain. Then her face lit up when Reuben stepped in beside me. “C’mere, guys,” she said, her voice a friendly growl.

We slipped off our shoes and climbed onto the bed on either side of Sarah. She kissed Reuben, then me, then Reuben again. For the next several minutes she traded off necking with the two of us, enjoying the attention. I lifted her t-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. Sarah stripped Reuben’s off of him and added it to the pile. She lay back on her elbows, naked. He and I shed the rest of our clothes and stood there, awkwardly.

She grinned at the sight of our bobbing cocks. Taking one of us in each hand, she pumped until we both reached maximum hardness. We each applied our mouth to one of her nipples and started sucking. “Oh, my,” she said. “That’s special.” I admired how she managed to sound a touch sarcastic, even in the throes of sexual pleasure.

I kissed my way down her flat stomach to the warm valley between her legs. Then I planted my lips in her cleft and started licking. She let out a low purr. I felt her juices flow. I sat back, smiling. I only tensed a little when Reuben crawled over to take my place. “Okay,” I thought. “Breathe. Don’t freak out.” I hoped we’d learn a new position or two from him, and that would make it worth it.

He buried his nose in her neatly trimmed public hair and went to work. I saw a flicker of pleasure in her eyes. She sighed and whispered, “That feels good.” I languidly stroked her breasts and belly. After a few minutes he showed no sign of slowing up. I know now how dumb this will sound, but I worried she might be getting annoyed at his persistence. For a time she actually looked a little sleepy, bored even, eyes closed, head lolling back and forth. Then I noticed how her engorged nipples pointed to the ceiling like wagging fingers. Her breath started coming in sharp pants. Her hands grasped for anything – the sheets, Reuben’s hair, her own breasts. Her toes curled like fists.

Reuben came up for air, grinning. She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Oh my god,” she said, sounding almost in a panic. “Don’t stop.” He went back to work with his tongue. She made interesting noises, which got louder when he slid a finger inside her, then two. I soon discovered the second circumstance, along with drinking, that brings the swears out of Sarah. “Jesus. Oh, shit. Fuck. Oooo Christ. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yes.” He ate her like a starving man and jammed his fingers into her like a maniac. Sarah’s distinctly articulated cursing mixed with a series of incoherent, animalistic cries I’d never heard come from a human. Finally she threw her head back and screamed as a powerful orgasm ripped through her body. He kept licking, driving her higher, until she pressed her palm against this head and pushed him back a bit. Smaller convulsions shook her hips as she panted and came down.

I stared, mouth agape. For once there could be no doubt about what just happened. I felt happy for her but worried for myself. When Reuben could do that to her, would she ever want me again? Had I made the worst mistake of my life? She interrupted my anxious thoughts by swinging her hips toward me, legs spread wide, inviting. I leaned forward, and it felt like her honeyed labia slurped me deep into her belly. Sliding into Sarah always felt great, but this time it reminded me of plunging into a hot whirlpool. I came almost right away but kept going without missing a beat. I knew on some level that Reuben deserved the credit for our heightened sexual experience, but I shoved the implications out of my mind in order to enjoy the moment. Sarah’s hips met me thrust for thrust. Our bodies slapped loudly, and our groans harmonized in an erotic crescendo. Finally I sighed and came a second time. I held myself up, hovering above her sweaty, flushed body, marinating in the feelings.

I would’ve gladly stayed there forever, but Sarah had other ideas. She gently pushed me off to her right. I rolled over and collapsed onto the bed. She swivelled her hips to her left, where Rueben knelt between her thighs. Instead of sinking into her, though, he rubbed the tip of his penis against her lips. She gasped. “How are you doing that?” Her voice sounded breathy and exhilarated. He continued drawing incredible responses from her with minimal movement until she lowered her voice into a command: “Your cock. In me. Now.”

At that point he leaned forward and sunk deep. He thrust again and again while he grunted and panted and she moaned like the damned. When he abruptly withdrew, her breathy “No!” came out an urgent whisper. He straddled her chest and tucked himself into the lush valley between her breasts. A thick, white paste coated his erection, presumably a cocktail of her cum and mine. He squeezed her fleshy mounds together and began thrusting into them. First she looked surprised. I’d never done that with her, and I’m pretty sure her exes hadn’t, either. But her reaction quickly changed to delight. She grabbed her own breasts, freeing his hand to reach behind and finger her. I watched, impressed and amazed, as he drove her into a far greater frenzy screwing her breasts than I ever had achieved in her vagina. She spewed curse words in the throaty tone that promised her approaching climax. She bucked like a bronco, almost throwing him off the bed as she exploded in her second orgasm of the night.

He stepped onto the floor, giving her a chance to come down from her high. Then he grabbed her ass and rolled her onto her stomach. She was clearly reeling and went along willingly as he lifted her onto all fours. He climbed up behind, slid into her, and began pumping. His balls slapped loudly against her ass. Then he eased her onto her side and laid down next to her, spooning. One of her legs lay flat on the bed. The other stretched up into the air. He kept thrusting from behind, leaving her beautiful expanse of pink flesh wide open in front. He reached his hand around and rubbed. She wailed and trembled. Her face contorted in ways that reminded me why they call orgasms “beautiful agony.” After maybe five minutes she exploded in her third orgasm. I made a mental note that in half an hour he’d tied my most optimistic record with Sarah, and – no denying it – provided higher quality climaxes than I ever had.

Her contractions squeezed him out. When she saw him flapping free, she sucked him into her mouth and fellated him with more enthusiasm than I’d ever received or even imagined. He groaned as he shot what looked like a big load that she eagerly swallowed.

Sarah slowly stood up from the bed. I couldn’t get over how ravishing she looked: skin glistening with sweat, hair wild and messy, cum dripping down her chin. Looking from Reuben to me, she said, “You guys are just. fucking. amazing.” Then she turned away and tossed a quick, “Gotta pee” over her shoulder as she padded to the bathroom. Reuben and I both lay back on the bed. I couldn’t speak. When Sarah returned she stretched out naked between us, one hand on my ass, the other on Reuben’s shoulder. Normally, she objected to sheets even half as messy as these, sometimes insisting we strip the bed even when we’d been tired as hell. Tonight she couldn’t have cared less. Within minutes we were all asleep.

I woke up early, dazed, with the feeling that something had happened but unable to recall what. Then I looked over and saw Sarah and Reuben breathing quietly, bodies entwined. I remembered. Right. That. I slid out of bed, closed the door softly, and walked into the living room. The sun had just come up. The light fell softly onto the sofa, where I sat for a long time, lost in thought.

After a while I heard voices from the bedroom, too quiet for me to make out what they were saying. The door clicked open. I saw a flash of orange flannel. Reuben’s shirt. Then I realized that Sarah had it on. She stopped at the end of the hall. “Is Dave home?” she asked. I said I didn’t expect him until the next day. She shucked the shirt to the floor and sat beside me, naked. I stared straight ahead. She kissed my cheek. I turned toward her. She kissed my lips, mouth open, tongue exploring, and reached down to fondle the soft flesh between my legs.

I looked at her, surprised. “Thought maybe you’d be done with me,” I said quietly.

“Last night was fun,” she said.

“No thanks to me.”

She caressed my cheek. “Reuben knows things about my body even I didn’t know. But that’s all it is. Knowledge. Practice. He says he’d be happy to teach you. Us.”

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