I knew what she needed and wanted from her chosen life partner before we got together. She knew what I needed and wanted from mine. We talked openly, explicitly and non-judgementally. It was the benefit of being Internet pen-pals before friends, the advantage of being friends before lovers.
Not that we did too much as lovers, at least initially. I wasn't what she wanted in the bedroom, she needed something that I simply could not give her. And it wasn't that I was too "small" down there to have enjoyable sex, although I was certainly well below average: some sites put me in the smallest ten percent of men. It wasn't that I lacked the stamina for sex, or the confidence, and I did find her so amazingly sexy and attractive, but I was quick to orgasm.
Very quick.
Embarrassingly so.
I wanted so hard not to be. I tried a number of techniques over the years but, both my partners and I, were left unfulfilled until I met her. Until I met "lancsnympho" on the Internet. We talked, every night. I didn't expect anything to come from it: I was the last person a nymphomaniac would look for sexual satisfaction. But when my job transferred to Manchester, we met.
And within three weeks we were dating.
What I needed was 69; I could pleasure my partner with a flick of my tongue in a way I couldn't with my cock. My smaller size was perfect for a blowjob: the few inches fit nicely inside my lady's mouth without troubling her gag reflex and I adored the warm moistness sliding over my glans.
But Clare needed proper sex: lots of it. I think all women do deep-down and I was used to my partners cheating on me; my confidence of having a faithful lover had long since disappeared. I expected to be lied to, I anticipated the "we need a chat" moment before I even started dating someone. Clare had the opposite problem; she always felt guilty for cheating when her partners were not able to satisfy her. For us both, to enter a relationship on the promise that one would be sharing their partner with other men and woman was a new experience for us both.
It scared me, but what did I have to lose? A lifetime of being single.
The communication between us was fantastic; the sex was even better. It had to be.
The first experience we wanted to "do" together. She arranged a friend from work to visit after his appointment at the gym. I was nervous, she sated me with a massage. I trusted her, she trusted me.
He arrived a few minutes early, his body smelling of the chlorine from the swimming pool. Clare kissed him as I watched; my heart fluttered, my dick rose. She winked at me as his hands gripped her waist, her T-Shirt riding over her head in seconds, exposing her pert bosom to his admiring eyes.