Aunts Can Do What Others Cannot

Mysteries of Premature Ejaculation revealed

After six years in Malaysia I was visiting my sister in Chennai. On the third day of my visit I had the misfortune to stumble and sprain my thigh. It turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I was lying on the couch feeling the tender hamstrings when my twenty-two year old nephew Satish came in. He was a physiotherapist.

"What's wrong with you," he asked. It was then that I got this idea. Why not get him to give me a massage? I asked him twice but he just stood there as if he did not hear me. Then suddenly he jerked up.

'What were you telling me Amar?" he asked. My name is Amaravathy. Being ten years younger he ought to call me Chithi (mother's younger sister), but from his childhood days has called me Amar. I like it that way.

"What's wrong with you? You are brooding all the time," I asked. He did act as if he had a secret sorrow.

"Nothing, I'm quite OK."

"It does not appear so. Anyway I want you to massage me and get my thigh muscles working again." He looked at me as if he did not comprehend what I was wanting. Then once again he jerked up.

"Did you say massage?"

"Yes.".

"When?"

"Now."

"OK," he said, "but not on that couch. You must lie on something hard."

"The ping-pong table?"

"That'll be fine. Give me half and hour to freshen up and get some coffee." He moved to his room with head bowed and shoulders drooping. Something was bothering him profoundly. In a young man aged twenty-two that could only be about women. Hope he was not in a trap.

At that moment I was not thinking about him but about me, and with rising excitement. My nephew, in six years I had not seen him, had grown to be tall and handsome. The moment I set eyes on him he became my fantasy object. He was about to give me a massage—an exciting prospect.

What should I wear? Nude? Funny thought. I turned away in shame—from myself. Later I asked him what I should wear. He stared back. Then he answered. He said men wear shorts.

"What do women wear?"

"I don't know. I do only for men. In out institute it is men for men and women for women. You wear shorts and bra but cover yourself with a sheet. That's what some women do even when women are working on them." He spoke in matter of fact tones. Did massaging a scantily clad aunt, shapely and quite youthful looking woman though, mean nothing to him?

I put on a pair of thick cotton knickers and a bra. I saw myself in the full length mirror. I was tingling all over. Though 32 I considered myself good looking, and sexy. Satish cannot but be excited to massage my thighs. I stretched on the table and covered myself with a white sheet and was ready. Satish wore shorts and T shirt. He started with my right foot. For one so muscular and strong his touch was surprisingly delicate. His hands were smooth without any of the callosities that tennis players have. He stretched the foot, folded it and bent it back; he pulled each toe and then he worked on the heel. He was not taking the pain out for I had no foot problems, but he was filling me with unbearable passion. I could not have imagined that massaging the foot can be so very erotic. After the feet he worked my calf. It appeared as if he was taking on every fibre of the muscles and giving it the treatment.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Wonderful," I replied. "In case you have not registered it is my right thigh that is the problem." He moved to the thigh and deftly he worked on it. He started above the knee and without exposing any part of me he worked his way up. I told him the pain was high up on the inner side. It was not. It was at the back. I was just being bold. I was in such a mood that given time I would have become reckless, but it was not to be.

He was close to my crotch when he stopped quite suddenly. A change came over him. He was standing forlornly with wide open expressionless eyes. I could see the reason. Wetness was spreading in the region of the crotch of his khaki shorts. He had ejaculated.

I watched as the wetness spread unable to decide what I should do. I looked up. Tears were flowing down my nephew's cheeks. This tall and muscular he-man was shedding tears. The aunt in me came pouring out. I was out of the sheet bra and knickers notwithstanding. I was cuddling him. I made him sit down on the bench; I wiped his tears away using my bare hands.

"You have not done anything to be ashamed of. Even an aunt is a woman. Any man will get excited when he rubs the inner thighs of any woman. Let me tell you I was excited too." He stood like zombie. Then he shook his head. So expressive was this shake of his head that its meaning was clear. 'This is not what is bothering me' his eyes were saying.

"Then what," I said. He would not answer, but slowly by relentless questioning I got his message out.

It seems that five days ago a friend and Satish had visited a prostitute. As soon as the woman lifted up her skirt Satish had ejaculated. The woman it appears was very supportive. She asked Satish to wash and put on his dress and wait for a while and then leave. She asked him not to let his friend know what happened. She even offered to return his money. Satish refused. This failure has been tormenting him.

"I am impotent Amar," he said. "I want to kill myself." He sat on the bench and wept unashamedly.

"Don't be silly," I said. "This is a curable condition. You don't have to see any doctor. I will consult my friend who is a gynaecologist and tell you what to do." He looked doubtfully. Satish is a robust fellow, but failure of sexual powers is something that can reduce any man to dust. I know one thing about PE (premature ejaculation) and that is this. It needs an understanding woman to help a man out of it, and what more helpful woman can a man get than a young aunt?

On one point I had not doubt at all. I had to make a start now or else I will miss the opportune moment. I led him to the bathroom. There I unbuttoned his shorts and pulled it down. He resisted as I expected him to.

"What are you trying to do?" he said annoyed.

"I am helping you Satish. If you do not cooperate with me you will ruin your life," I said. "You can't expect to be cured of premature ejaculation with your pants on." I spoke the punch line with such force that though he continued to squirm he allowed me to expose him. "I am your aunt. I have bathed you before and I have the right to bathe you now." I then washed his penis, and then as he wiped I washed his soiled shorts. I had to tie the towel round his waist for he seemed devoid of energy. I led him to the drawing room. I prepared hot Ovaltine which he drank.

"You must be confident that you will be OK soon," I said. He nodded uncertainly. I then rushed to the bathroom. I was wet with my vulval secretions and needed an urgent knickers change. Even as I lay under the sheets I was tense with expectation. When Satish started massaging my feet the excitement rose and as his hands came closer and closer to my crotch I was burning hot. After he ejaculated I was only too happy to let him see me in the scanty dress I was in. I wish I had been moist enough to wet the knickers through and through. Disrobing him and washing his penis took me to a new high. I have seen my nephew's penis after it had attained adult size for the first time. I have touched it and I have played with it. What a day it has been. His penis was like a large sized banana. I knew I had to have him or I'll burst. For that to happen I had to cure him. Curing him was as much for me as for him. We were both in it.

My recently qualified gynaecologist friend was of no use. The Internet and the library were better. The news they conveyed was not very heartening. All forms of male sexual inadequacies it appeared were difficult to cure. The problem was not in the body but the mind, and we know that even though there are effective drugs for mental diseases doctors did not know how they acted. Results thus tend to be uncertain. Viagra strictly speaking is not a cure for impotence. It merely enables one to improve one's erection. The body has to do its bit before the drug can act. Viagra acts on the body, not the mind.

Premature ejaculation is form of impotence. Worse, for when the problem is lack of erection man stays away from women. In PE he demonstrates his failure again and again and the embarrassment can lead him to desperation. I was also worried that in a fit of depression Satish might harm himself.

The next day I called him frequently when he was in college. When I called the fourth time I heard him laughing.

"Amar," he said, "you need not be afraid that I'll to something drastic to myself." He laughed more. This change in his mood gave me confidence that I will succeed.

In twelve days I had to go back to Kuala Lumpur. Whatever I do I must in that time. By my reckoning that was enough. Home conditions were ideal. My sister was a prominent socialite, which meant that she would be away from home most of the day. Even when in home she never came up for she had a knee problem that made stairs climbing painful. My brother-in-law was a clubman, a rummy addict. He came home only at nine in the evening. Satish went early but came home for late lunch and stayed the afternoon at home. He had evening clinic in an orthopaedic hospital. We had the house to ourselves for the whole of the afternoon.

The usual need for men is to increase their sexual sensitivity so that they can have a harder erection, but in Premature Ejaculation the reverse is the case. One has to reduce the subject's sensitivity. Surprisingly this is as difficult as increasing it. There are two movements (dance terms are very appropriate) to cure PE. The very thought made me slurp. One is to familiarise my nephew to the female body. When he saw his first adult vulva he ejaculated. The first time he touched the upper part of the inner thigh he again ejaculated. He needed to see and feel more to harden his sex trigger. The second is to bring him to the brim by penile stimulation and just before he ejaculates remove the stimulus—teasing him again and again to blunt his sensitivity. I was excited. At every point my involvement was of a kind that I can best describe as delicious for it I who would be exposing the body for his edification and my hands are ones that would be teasing his penis.

I mulled over how to proceed on the basis of what I had read about the treatment of PE. I took notes and drew up a chart of what I had to do on each of the twelve days.

Day 1

I did not expect Satish to take any form of initiative. I was in no need of any invitation. Post-lunch hour is a quiet period in our home. We could work undisturbed. I prepared myself for the exercise. I had no idea how far I would have to go in the first session but I was prepared. I shaved my vulva and armpits to smoothness. I bathed and wore a very low necked blouse with no bra, and tied a thin cotton sari without a skirt. I lightly powdered my face.

Satish was reclining on his bed and reading a magazine. His mood was good for the girl on the cover of the magazine was quite excitingly clad. His welcoming smile was sheepish. I gestured him to stay where he was.

I explained what I proposed to do.

"Are you are going to ..." he said when I had done with the explaining. He was unable to utter the magic word in his shyness.

"Yes, masturbate you," I said accenting the key word. "Just as you feel the ejaculation is about to start you must tell me and I would stop. The trick is to stop the event in its track, and then repeat it again and again. The idea is to harden your sensation to the point that it does not self-trigger." He nodded somewhat uncertainly.

"Do you think it is necessary for you to do that? I can do that by myself."

"Satish, get this clear," I said. "Do you want to get cured? If so do as I tell you."

I went for his dhoti. He squirmed momentarily. Shy boy my nephew. But he relaxed after a moment and helped me by lifting his weight off the cloth. He was now bare below the waist. His penis was large even when merely turgid. It lay on one side; there was a languid grace about it. If ever there was a penis that was made for women this was the one.

His pubic hair was jet black, lush and curly. I placed a hand under his scrotum and lifted up his testicles. I felt them tenderly. They were heavy and firm, and large. I held each testicle in my palms and gently kneaded them. The feeling was exciting. I looked up. Our eyes met. His smile was a shy smile of a little boy.

It was now the turn of the penis.

When I handling his testicles I expected his penis to raise but it did not. I lay on its side turgid but not stiff. I straightaway diagnosed the problem. He was in the medical examinee mode. When a lady doctor is examining a male patient he is not likely to have an erection. That was what was happening. I had to take immediate steps to remedy the situation. I had to make him think of me as a sex object. That was easy. I removed my pallav to expose my deep valley. The breast under the thin cotton blouse was visible too. The reaction was immediate. His penis quickly gathered strength and in desperation Satish asked me to cover myself. I did so and watched his penis anxiously lest he ejaculate. If he did the set back would have been tremendous. He was able to hold. I faced up my palm and he gave a high five and we laughed. The first move had been a success.

"Are your ready?" I asked after ten minutes. He said he was. Again I exposed my breasts and rubbed him. This was no better. Again we managed without mishap.

"Your exposed breasts are too much for me," he said.

"You think of something erotic," I said. "I will then stimulate."

"Think of what?

"Of me of course." I then had an inspiration to give commentary. "I am there standing before you in the nude. My breasts are exposed and they are large and sumptuous." His penis was rising. I continued. "They are big and as you will see one of these days they are soft and luscious." His penis was now stiff. I held the penis with my fingers and thumb and worked the foreskin forwards and backwards. I was silent. I had thought of lot of juicy things to say but I was pretty sure that it would be too much for him. I few more rubs and he knew it was time to stop.

"Stop," he said urgently. I stopped and moved away. For a moment I thought he was going to ejaculate. But no, he held.

This we did for may be a dozen times. Not only was he able to hold but the time he allowed before calling it off also lengthened. It was not good to leave him unsatisfied. I had to cap the first day's lesson with a reward. I unbuttoned my blouse.

"Fondle me," I said. I took his hands and placed it on my bare breast. He gently kneaded. I caught hold of his penis with both hands and rubbed. He ejaculated on my palms in large spurts, soiling my hands and the towel I had placed on his lap. His semen felt warm and cheesy. We lay on each other. It was then that he poured honey into my ears.

"My darling aunty, I love you," he said. I washed him and then he washed my hands. We came back to the bed and hugging we kissed on the lips for the first time. His hands probed all over my bare breasts. He rubbed my vulva too, but over the sari.

We became lovers.

Day 2:

The next afternoon we were at our post after hours of eager waiting. Though both would have liked to start where we left off I prudently decided to work my way up from square one. A disaster early on would abort the programme for hours if not for the day. More than that Satish might lose the confidence he had developed. It turned out to be the correct decision. His initial responses came on in quick time as if the previous day's experience meant nothing at all, but we speedily worked our way up.

Day two was a repeat of day one except for the finale. He fondled my bare breasts as on day one and I used my hands to masturbate him. But after he had ejaculated I lifted my sari and allowed him to touch my bare vulva. I lay back and lifted my legs. He rested his elbows on the bed and with his chin on his hands he stared with singular focus.

"Touch it," I said. He opened out the leaves. He squeezed the clitoris out of its hood and touched it with his tongue tip. He looked up and smiled.

'Kiss me," I said. He kissed my vulva as if it was my lips and I thrust my pelvis forward and moved it as if I was responding to a lip-to-lip kiss.

"Satisfied?"

"How can one ever feel he had had enough?" he said. "What's for tomorrow Aunty?" Suddenly he was calling me aunty and not Amar.

"You have to wait," I said.

Day 3:

We started as we did on day one, guardedly. We had our first disaster—he ejaculated. It was not as if we were careless. It just happened too fast for either of us. He however took it in the right spirit. After a wait we restarted but the mood was not there. Even the breasts and vulva exposed finale lacked punch. The ejaculation did have a lasting effect.

Day 4, 5 and 6:

The next three days we proceeded cautiously and made good progress. The time interval was now long enough for us to be more ambitious. I was able to play with his penis before he ejaculated in the finale. He was getting more familiar with my body.

Day 7:

"Now get ready for the next test," I said. So far I had made use of my bare breasts and vulva as rewards. The time was on for us to test his ability to hold even as he is viewing or handling my bare body. This was critical.

I removed my blouse in one jerk, and there I stood before him with my breasts grandly on display. His eyes seemed to protrude out and he desperately asked me to cover myself. I not only did that but left his presence altogether. I feared that even my presence could be too much for him. But luckily he was able to hold back. I left for some household chores giving him half an hour to get back to normalcy.

I decided on a different tack when I returned. I lay by his side fully clothed. We hugged and kissed, first tentatively and then quite passionately; when it appeared that we were getting too emotional I released myself.

"Now just hug and fondle over my blouse," I said. He did so gently and lovingly. This was an exhilarating experience. We rubbed noses and we licked our cheeks, and then we probed each others mouth with our tongues. My nephew's tongue was a long pointed one. He seemed to reach almost to my throat. We spoke to each other in baby talk with me acting the mother and he replying in malalai (Tamil for baby talk). If at this point Satish had waved the red flag I would have found it difficult to get away. He did not. We lay that way for quite a while enjoying our clothed bodies, mine anyway for he was bare below the waist. I took care not to touch his penis.

"Rub my vulva," I said. I lifter one leg and rested it on his hip. He rubbed my vulva with a delicacy that came to him so naturally. There was no roughness that men lapse into when in a passion. He went about with civilised restraint. I am proud of my nephew. He cupped my vulva and pressed. I moaned. He felt the vulval cleft with his finger tips and ran them up and down giving gently pressure when he came to the clitoris. He gently entered his middle finger into my vagina. I loved ever moment. He held on surprisingly. The time for the finale was upon us. I had it all worked out in detail.

Hitherto Satish wore a T-shirt. He was nude only below his waist. I pulled off his shirt. I went into the bathroom and removed my blouse and sari and wrapped myself in a towel. I inspected myself in the mirror. Stubble of hair had grown in the pubic area. I shaved it off. The armpit I left with the stubble. I came to the bed. Satish was excited to see me with only a towel round tied round at the level of my arm pits. I smiled and whisking off the towel and climbed the bed and lay on top of him, naked body on naked body. We hugged and kissed till Satish ejaculated. As we moved I could feel our abdomens moving smoothly against his semen. It was glorious. First our movement was with passion, and then it was like children playing with damp clay. We laughed. After some more play we went to the bathroom.