My wife tells me that she published a story here called "Sex Ed After Marriage" and that many readers wanted a similar story from my perspective. Since we agreed to never talk with each other about our experiences we have agreed to not read each other's stories. I will use the same made up names for us she did, Ruth and Luke. Jezebel really is her friend's name, though.
Ruth told me I must use slang and swear words when referring to body parts and acts. Neither of us use those terms in normal conversation but since apparently most readers want it, I will do so even though it makes me cringe.
Ruth told me that she gave most of the background about Reverend Brown and our sheltered, stifling, religious upbringing so I don't want to repeat that. However, I do want to tell you about Ruth.
I was in love with Ruth for many years before we got married. While she, and many others, don't think her face is beautiful, she is the most bubbly, upbeat, kind person I know. Her personality was what made me fall in love with her. Although our sets of parents and Reverend Brown thought we were well matched I was never sure, up until she said "yes," that she would ever marry me. I'm not that bad looking, short brown hair, about 5' 11", 170 lbs. with a pleasant face. However, I'm certainly no stud so I wasn't sure that I really had a chance with someone with her vivaciousness. I got extra motivation never to give up from my younger cousin, Esther, though.
Esther was the closest thing to a "wild child" in our family β probably more conservative than almost any kid going to a suburban high school of a large city, but in our village extreme. She had been in gym class with Ruth. When I came home from college for the summer between my junior and senior years Esther and I were chatting at a family function when with a twinkle in her eye she said "If you marry Ruth, Luke, you're in for a real treat."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh poor Luke, you're even more naΓ―ve than most in our little community, aren't you? Let me just say that her body is even better than her personality, and you know everyone loves her," she laughed as she skipped away and I turned red.
I was even more sheltered than most and going to the Christian College I went to didn't help me in any way. I would have liked to go to a big State school, where the instruction in my field, software development, would have been better. However, my parents and Reverend Brown insisted on the Christian College and at that time I had no means of support without my parents.
I wasn't just a virgin when Ruth and I got married; I was a novice flunky with a borderline social disorder.
I'm not going to go into the embarrassing details of sex with Ruth the first year of our marriage, but looking back on it still makes me cringe. The words "humiliation, clumsiness, chagrin," and "awkwardness" come to mind. I'm a book smart guy, but I couldn't possibly come up with a way out of the situation I was in where I knew Ruth wasn't sexually fulfilled and knew that I needed to do more. The more I thought about it the more anxious I got; the more anxious I got, the clumsier I got; the clumsier I got the more hyper I got; it was a vicious cycle.
One Saturday morning Ruth sat me down. The normally cheery look on her face was absent, replaced by a serious one. I knew what our talk was going to be about; I cringed when she said "Our sex life is horrible." While she tempered it by saying "It's not your fault or mine, but the way we were brought up," as the man in the relationship I felt more responsible.
When Ruth first proposed her friend Jezebel's solution, a long weekend for each with an experienced sex partner, my initial reaction was anger. Ruth stunned me by essentially saying it was that way or the highway, and when she left until the next evening I knew she wasn't kidding.
The entire time Ruth was gone I knew that if I couldn't come up with anything better I would agree because I couldn't take the chance of losing her. Despite thinking of nothing but that the entire weekend I had no solution that I thought had the slightest chance of working, let alone that Ruth would agree to. So when Ruth returned home and gave me a big, sweet, kiss and implored me to say "yes," I did just that.
While Ruth was at a resort on one side of our city, I would be at a resort on the opposite side. Unknown to Ruth I called Jezebel expressing my nervousness since I had a hard enough time attempting sex with the woman I loved, let alone a stranger. Again unknown to Ruth a couple of days before our excursions would start the woman I would be with called me at work, identifying herself as "Jill," and calling me "Ryan," both assumed names. She was very friendly, with an English-type accent I couldn't quite place, and answered most of my questions candidly. When she told me that she was employed as a sex therapist while working on her PhD my mind was strangely put at ease. The next few days I started to be more excited about the upcoming event than scared, although I still had a real fear that Ruth might want the guy she was going away with rather than me when the weekend was over.
Ruth and I kissed about as passionately as we ever did before we left for our rendezvous points.
When I met Jill I was stunned; she was beautiful. She had a gorgeous face, was tall (probably only two inches shorter than I was), trim, tanned, with bleached blond hair and green eyes. She had on a tank top and shorts β really short shorts. Her legs were muscular and sleek, as were her arms. Her breasts were small but perky, almost visible through her tank top since she had no bra on. She was the only woman I had ever seen that to me was as breathtaking as Ruth, although they looked vastly different.
I was glad Jill was driving because otherwise when I stared at her thighs I'm sure we would have gotten into an accident if I was at the wheel. She was probably the most forthright person I had ever talked to by a light year. This is an example of our conversation (actually mostly her talking and me listening):
"Let me tell you something about myself, Ryan. First of all, I know you're trying to place my accent but are too shy or polite to ask. I'm a Kiwi."
"Kiwi?" (I was really sheltered).
"From New Zealand. What you have to know about Kiwi women is that as a group we are the most promiscuous in the world. According to a study completed last year, Kiwi women have an average of 20.4 sex partners in their life whereas the global average is 7.3, and New Zealand is the only country where the women have more sexual partners on average than the men, 16.8."
All I could do was gulp!
"The average Kiwi woman loses her virginity on her 18th birthday, and I was no exception. You Yanks are way behind us in all categories."
How do you respond to statistics like those? She kept up a rapid fire of them, relating to all sorts of sexual topics. Without me even asking her to as she overwhelmed me with statistics she explained what a number of terms she used meant, including "blowjob," "cunnilingus," "muff diving," "tea bagging," and many more.
Jill was also straight forward about her body parts and relative abilities and said she had found out some things from Jezebel about my wife's body. Jill matter-of-factly volunteered "My boobs are too small for a proper titty fuck but I have a tight cunt and strong thighs and I can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch," and "Jezebel told me that calling your wife's body 'killer' would be the understatement of the year, and that I especially need to teach you how to appreciate and service her puffy pussy lips and conspicuous clit."
By the time we got to the resort my head was spinning but I noticed that my cock was aroused.
As soon as we got into our room the instruction started.
"The first thing you need to do is to learn how to properly undress a woman. While what you do depends upon the situation and location, the two main techniques I call 'seducer' and 'caveman.' Since I like the clothes I'm wearing, let's start with 'seducer.'"
"Uh, Jill; my wife never really wears shorts, though, and always wears a bra," I sheepishly responded.
"Good thinking, bloke. Let me fix that."
In front of me Jill removed her top, while bare-chested fished a bra out of her suitcase and put it on, put a button-up top over the bra, and removed her shorts and thong and put on panties and a skirt. I was shocked that she had no pubic hair. Seeing my wide-eyes and the tenting of my pants she smiled and chuckled "Don't give yourself a coronary, Ryan."
She instructed me in the sensual way to remove each article of clothing, how to run my fingers up and down various body parts when doing so, when and on what body parts to plant kisses, etc. The first time I did horribly so she put her clothes back on and we did it three more times until she smiled and laughed "Brilliant."
"Now that you've removed my clothes properly, you'll want to do a little muff diving to get me in a great mood, right?"
"Uh, I guess."
"No, 'I guess.'" Jill shot back. "That is what you'll do. Now first let's have a proper kiss, and let me see your tongue stuck out."