We are a somewhat older couple. My wife, Joanne, recently turned 50 and I am 56. We've been married for nearly 30 years and have two grown children. She had quit her job a couple of years back to take care of her aging mother. When her mother died, Joanne became bored and was looking for something to occupy her time. So, one day she told me that she was going to put her psychology degree to some good use and provide tutorial services to students taking psychology courses at the local college.
She met with all the psych professors, discussed their courses for the upcoming semester, and obtained copies of their syllabi, handouts, and textbooks. The professors were all cordial and were willing to make it known to their students that her services were available.
We also set up the middle of our upstairs bedrooms as an office/study room. There was a desk with monitor and laptop in the rear left corner of the room and a round wooden table in the center that could comfortably seat four. We also put a loveseat against the wall opposite the desk. The stage was set for what would turn out to be a lucrative second career for Joanne.
About two weeks after the semester started, Joanne started getting requests for tutoring assistance. One of the courses that first semester was Psych 215, Human Sexuality, and she received text messages from two students in that course requesting tutoring, Chad and Cal, and she set up early evening appointments. I would always stay out of the way, usually hanging out in our bedroom watching a movie or reading.
I was on our bed reading when Chad arrived for the first evening appointment at 7:00. He was a well-built young man with rugged good looks, likely an athlete. His hair was short, dirty blond and he wore a tight fit t-shirt, tucked into a pair of loose fitting, knee-length shorts, and loafers without any socks. I paid little mind to what transpired, until I noticed he left at about 7:20, well short of the normal hour-long session. As soon as he pulled away in his ruby-red convertible Miata, Joanne came into the bedroom.
"You're not going to believe this," she said, "Chad wants me to teach him how to be a better lover."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "You're tutoring Psych courses. How did he come to make a request like that?"
"Well, he's taking "Human Sexuality" and the topic yesterday was penis size. The class discussion ended up in a debate about whether penis size mattered in sexual performance. Apparently, he has a smaller than average penis, has suffered with an inferiority complex about it since high school, and wants to know how to perform in such a way to make a woman happy."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him that was outside the scope of my tutoring duties."
"Well if it's causing him psychological distress, doesn't that make it fall within your duties?"
"No, that would be for a therapist, not a tutor."
"Is he attractive?" I asked.
"What difference does that make?"
"I'm just wondering if his problem is more with his looks than his penis size. I mean a woman has to be attracted to him, right? The penis issue comes later."
She looked at me as she contemplated her response, then said, "I think most women would find him attractive."
To me that was code for "He's a hunk."
"Okay," I said, "then teach the poor boy. Help him be a good lover."
"The only way to do that is to give him pointers, preferably while he's engaging in the act of sexual intercourse. He said he doesn't have a girlfriend, so how am I supposed to teach him?"
I just grinned at her. It took a few seconds, but she quickly caught on, remembering our fantasy talks where we imagined another man watching us have sex in a public place and somehow joining in. I even admitted that I wanted to watch her have sex with another man. "Oh no," she said. "I know your dirty little mind. I'm not going to have sex with him. Besides, how would you get to watch? I couldn't very well tell him, 'Yeah, I'll teach you how to be a good lover, as long as my husband can watch you fuck me.'"
"Okay, okay," I responded, "just take some time to think about it. I know you find him attractive, and he could use a confidence boost. Think about his youth and stamina. You might even enjoy the experience, huh? In an ideal world, yes, I would like to watch, but even if I can't...," I walked up to her, took her left hand, and placed it on my crotch. "...I'm still turned on by the prospect of you having sex with another guy. You can tell me all the details later."
She looked at me with a weird mixture of confusion and mirth. "You are a pervert, you know that?"
"Yes, and you are a hot woman who deserves lots of sexual satisfaction."
"Which you provide nicely," she added. Then she rubbed my erection through my shorts. "Are you really hard because you're imagining me having sex with this youngster?"
"Yes."
"Pervert," she said again, smiling, as she pushed me away. "I've got to prepare for my appointment with Cal," she said as she walked from the room.
I lay back on the bed and tried (but failed) to concentrate on my book until about 8:45, when I heard a car door shut outside. I peeked through the curtains to see a white Toyota Corolla parked in our driveway and a short, gangly young man walking up to the house. He had thick brown hair that was swept behind his ears and hung down to his shoulders. He appeared to shuffle rather than walk, with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward. A few seconds later the doorbell rang.
There was a brief conversation at the door that I couldn't hear, but as they ascended the stairs, Joanne said in a tone that emoted a light reprimand, "You're late young man."
"Sorry, ma'am. I got caught in traffic due to a sudden rain squall."
"Well, I guess those things can happen. Come on in and have a seat," she said as I heard the door click shut.
About fifteen minutes later, I decided to go ahead and get ready for bed, so I brushed my teeth, urinated, washed my hands and face, and went into the walk-in closet to get out of my clothes. That's when I noticed that the wall between the closet and our "office" was so thin that I could hear every word of their conversation as clear as if I were in the room with them.
Joanne: Cal, it's really pretty simple. Show confidence. Confidence in a man is an aphrodisiac to most women. That doesn't mean that you need to be overly aggressive or stuck up. Just act as if you believe in yourself. Even if deep down you have doubts, don't let them show. Then, if you're as big as you say you are, women will come to you just to experience your big cock. (Silence for a moment) No...Cal stop...I don't want to...Cal! (Another moment of silence) Oh my! You weren't kidding. That IS a big penis.
Cal: Nobody believes me, so how do I let all the girls know about it? Besides, according to the class discussion yesterday, size doesn't really matter if a guy doesn't know what to do with it. Since I've never had sex, I don't know what to do. How do I make sure I can please a woman with my penis?
Joanne: I'm not sure what the discussion was in your class but let me assure you that size DOES matter in that a man with a larger penis doesn't have to work as hard at pleasing a woman. A man with a small penis CAN please a woman, but he will need to work a little harder at it. I can also tell you that it's not really the sight of a penis that excites women, it's the anticipation of the pleasure she thinks she will receive. For men, the mere sight of a naked woman can cause an erection. In general, that's not the case for women.
Cal: So do you anticipate that my penis could give you pleasure?
Joanne: Maybe. But I'm married, so it's academic. I will say, though, that you have a really nice penis. It's almost a work of art. (silence for a moment) I don't suppose...I mean...can I...would it be alright if I just touched it?
Cal: Sure. Go right ahead. (There was a long period of silence) Oh wow. That felt really good.
Joanne (cleared her throat): I really shouldn't have done that. You were leaking and it was just an impulse to lick up your precum.
