The Sex Coach

THE SEX COACH

Things had gone to hell politically and I didn't think things could get any worse. They could and they did. Quickly. It seemed really bad when I heard the words, "We have to talk." Nothing signals disaster to a man better than those four words.

I was wrong, however, because when my wife and I talked that afternoon her words weren't meant to be unkind or announcing chaos or bad news or telling me she was leaving. They were meant to offer me some comfort. After the 'we have to talk' announcement, my wife said, "With all that has happened this week politically, I was thinking you'd be feeling so down, so depressed, that we should think of something you'd really enjoy doing. Something to bring you out of the doldrums."

"Thanks, baby," I said. "That's nice."

"I have been doing some reading lately, about men in their forties who go through a traumatic event and are in need of a renewal, an experience that helps resuscitate their emotional energy," she said. "Research tells us that men at your age may need a sexual rejuvenation, especially after a tragic or traumatic experience. It could be something like having an affair or something of that nature," she added. "An experience to bring up your spirits," she said.

"Something like this," she said handing me a picture. It was a photo of a young bronze-skinned girl in a tiny white bikini.

"A picture?" I said.

"Not just a picture, but a picture of someone who can help," she said. "Her name is Glory, and she is twenty-five and hires out to help rejuvenate men's libidos. She even has a license as a sexual tutor. She is licensed by the State of Nevada to provide her services for money. We have a room in Las Vegas in two weeks and I have employed her to help you feel rejuvenated, to help bring you back to feeling normal again."

She smiled. "Interested?" she asked.

I looked down at the picture. She was gorgeous. Her breasts were medium sized but perfectly shaped. Her nearly naked body was beautiful, her hips were lovely and clearly exposed by the very brief suit. Her face was exquisite and her smile was sexy and she looked slightly bashful. I looked up at my wife.

"You've employed her?" I asked.

"For one whole night," my wife said with a smile. "She would be a prostitute here, but in Las Vegas she is a sexual coach, a therapist for horny male clients."

"And you've already paid?" I asked.

"Credit cards are wonderful things," she said, "especially for sex."

"And you were sure I'd say yes?" I said.

"Are you kidding? Did you look at that picture?" she asked. "Are you my husband? Yes, I was sure," she said with a cocky smile.

"And you'd give me a night with a sexual therapist to be personally counseled?" I asked with a skeptical grin.

"Not only would I, but I did already," she said. "I love my husband and I don't want him going through sexual distress. It is money well spent," she said. "She has been trained and certified to help men achieve sexual success and find physical happiness. You have her for the night. I will be in the same hotel with room service and a television, and slot machines just down the hall."

I kissed her, shook my head, and shrugged. "Okay," I said, "if you're sure."

"I am sure and okay with it. It's like you having a doctor's appointment," she said.

"To have sex?" I said, incredulous.

"To get sexually coached," she said with a grin.

We drove to Las Vegas two weekends later. On the way we talked about everything but Glory, who had been hired for me to enjoy and learn about sex from. As we got closer to Sin City my arousal grew, as did parts of my anatomy, and my heart rate went up exponentially. When I saw the casinos in the distance, my heart was racing and Claire smiled knowingly, as if she knew exactly what I was feeling.

"Getting excited?" she asked.

"To say the least," I said. "Glory will meet us at the hotel?"

"I will text her when we get about a block away," she said. "They know her at the MGM Grand. She tutors other men there," my wife said smiling. "It's sin city."

"You don't have a problem with Glory 'tutoring' me in sexual intercourse?" I said. She shook her head. "Sex with another woman?" I said.

"Sex with a professional," she said. "Like I said. It's like going to the doctor. She's a sex doctor. I just want the best thing for my husband's health and mental happiness," she said.

We pulled into the MGM Grand parking garage and Claire sent a text to Dr. Glory and said we'd meet her in the lobby. The people at the front desk knew her and smiled at us when we all got on the elevator together. On the way up Glory was very professional and explained the guidelines and what she would and would not do.

"I will do no water sports, anal, or feces oriented activities, and I won't do S&M," she said. "Pretty much everything else is okay. You must wear a condom for penetration, and oral is fine without a dental dam. I will swallow if you'd like, and I will leave at eight in the morning. Your wife paid for the whole night. She must really love you," she said. "Do you have any questions? Are these conditions acceptable?"

I said they were and we rode up in silence after that. Claire went off to her room and we went to room 222, her usual room, and I unlocked the door. After we went in Glory undressed, slowly, as if in a striptease production. I watched her remove each piece of clothing and she neatly placed each item on a chair, carefully folded or hung on a hanger.

"Tell me about yourself," she said as she helped me out of my clothes. When I was nude she took my hand and led to the bed. "How old were you when you had your first orgasm?" I told her and she asked how many times a week I masturbated.

"Probably everyday," I said feeling more comfortable by the minute telling her personal things. I expected to be ill at ease. There was something about the sound of her voice and her manner that put me at ease telling her about sexual aspects of my life.

"Is there something you especially like to do?" she asked in that soft but professional sounding voice. I told her I liked all things oral and she nodded like it was a good choice, like a waitress at a restaurant telling you that you made a good choice in ordering.

"Why don't we start with a full-body, sensual massage?

Would you like to start with giving or receiving?" she asked.

"I'd like to do you," I said. "At least at first." She got down on the bed and asked if I would rather have her on her back to start or her stomach. I said I would prefer her on her stomach, since I like to do the back and bottom and that I would get to her front eventually. She seemed to like that.

She got on her stomach and I massaged her back, then I moved quickly to that luscious tanned ass. It was not white, so she obviously liked to be nude. I kneaded her buns with both hands, being firm but not too forceful. She moaned continuously as I worked the cheeks of her bottom with my hands. I massage down each legs, going to her feet and manipulating each toe.

She turned over and I did each leg, her shoulders, neck, and I finally got to between her legs. I rubbed my thumb over her clitoris and inserted a finger of the other hand into her wet pussy. She said I was an advanced student and came around my fingers, moaning as she climaxed, telling me I was lifting her spirits.

When we traded places, she did my back first, my shoulders, then my neck, thighs and calves. She did my feet, hands, and fingers, then worked up each arm. She had me turn over and went from my feet, up my legs, then she did my neck and shoulders. In very little time she had me fully relaxed, hanging over the table like a rag.

Finally, she got to my cock and massaged it, kissed it, then took my flaccid dick in her mouth and sucked it to a full-blown erection. When I was completely hard, she took me in her mouth and deep throated me to the hilt, holding me at the back of her throat and rubbing the underside with her tongue. She certainly was a talented cock sucker and had me close to orgasm before she lifted up her head and said, "Not yet, my friend."

After working on my cock for awhile, she took out a condom, slipped it on, rolled it down my shaft, and climbed on the bed, lifted one leg over my hips, then settled down on me, forcing my latex covered cock up into her. She began bouncing over me, fucking me steadily with a constant and assertive rhythm. She put one hand on each side of my abs and held herself up, her hips moving up and down with increased tempo.

By the time I was ready to come she was moving up and down at an incredible speed and came as I did, or at least she faked it really well. It may have been the best faked orgasm I have ever had performed on me. Mine wasn't fake, however, and I filled that condom with my warm, pearly seed. She took the condom off my dick, held it up over her mouth, tilted it back and let the contents slide down her throat.

I had heard about that being done, but I had never seen it. When she swallowed the last of it, she smiled, licked her lips, and wiped her mouth with her forearm. "I love the taste of a good man," she said.

"Would you like to eat some pussy?" she asked as if she was inquiring about the weather. Too spent to speak, I just nodded. She got down on the bed and I moved down to where my chin was just below her pussy. I took a swipe with my tongue, going from below her labia to her clit in one motion, then focussing on the tender bud and circling it with the tip.

She pulled her knees up and looked at me between her thighs, smiling, then closing her eyes and turning her face towards the ceiling. I forced my tongue between her lips and probed deep into her, tasting the salty tang of her pussy as I grazed the sugared walls of her lovely cunt. Her body tightened as I reached into her. She was a pro, that was for sure.

As I stretched out on my stomach between her open thighs, I held her cleft open with my thumbs. I wondered if Glory was a squirter, and inserted a finger into her and bent it upward to look for her G-spot. When I found the rough patch I concentrated on it with that finger and drew circles around, pressing down for more friction.

Claire loves to come that way and has been known to squirt out ten to twelve inches from her muff when she comes, soaking the sheets beneath us and leaving a cold, wet spot on the bed.

Glory's moans began to get more intense the closer she got to squirting, and I increased the pressure of my finger and the friction and speed of my circling her sensitive nub. Her hands went into fists, her eyes closed tightly, and her voice got more agitated and high-pitched. It was almost a squeal by the time a stream of liquid began shooting up out of her flexing pussy.

"I feel I should pay you," she said after she recovered. I told her ours was money well spent. I told her she had nothing to feel bad about, since it had been a time I will never forget. She said we had until morning and we could fuck until sunup, or we could sleep some and fuck between short naps.

I opted for short naps and we fucked again until we fell asleep and then woke and repeated ourselves. We did it doggy style--although she was clear there would be no anal--and we fucked in the shower, standing up, and on the kitchenette sink with her sitting on the counter and me standing between her open legs.

She showed me how to hold off an orgasm, and she showed me some positions from the Kama Sutra. We fucked in the Lotus Position, and a side by side in a spooning posture.

I met Claire for breakfast that morning and she asked how my night was. "For a whole night you must have spent a lot of money," I said. "You are one special fucking wife. Dr. Glory said you must really love me."

"I must," she said grinning. "If we come back to Vegas, maybe we can get Glory again and share her," she said.

"She said she's moving to LA to attend UCLA to get her masters in sex therapy and stay in Los Angeles and open up an office. She thinks she can make more money as a legitimate therapist, taking sex jobs on the side," I said.

"Well, not so far to drive," she said. "You think she'll do bi?"

"You bisexual?" I asked.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" she said with a grin.