It had been exactly two weeks since my brother, the Beemer, had come to me to find out if the lump he thought he detected was testicular cancer. That little request had given me the opportunity to manipulate the poor kid into submitting to an over-the-top genital examination, a thorough discussion of his masturbation habits and forcing him to produce a semen sample while I fingered his prostate gland. The outcome was an assignment to work with his girlfriend, Sally, to zip up what appeared to be a very mundane sex life. From what he told me, anything much beyond the missionary position was off limits. He left our little session very much excited about the prospect of taking things to the next level with her.
I had been incredibly turned on by the experience and had been using it as fodder for masturbation at least once a day ever since. I even thought about it during sex with a guy at work and we had by far the most satisfying experience of our relationship. I didn't have the heart to tell the poor schmuck what had put me in such a "receptive" mood. At any rate, when my phone rang, the last person on earth I expected it to be was Sally. She sounded hesitant from the very beginning of the conversation.
"Hi Mercedes. I've been trying to muster the courage to make this call, and I finally decided to do it because I'm desperate. Will you promise you won't tell anyone if I let you in on what's going on with the Beemer and me? It's pretty...well...personal."
"I guess so, Sally. Is it serious?"
"Well, for the last couple of weeks, the Beemer keeps wanting me to do things I'm just not comfortable with when we're, you know, fooling around."
"What kind of stuff, Sally?"
"God this is so hard for me to talk about. Stuff like, well, you know, playing with ourselves while the other one watches."
"Gee, Sally, that doesn't sound so strange to me. I love masturbating for someone and then letting them return the favor. I just let the embarrassment wash over me while I do it. It's a turn on, and makes me feel a little naughty. Why don't you give it a chance?"
"I just don't think I could ever do that. I grew up in a really strict church where they warned us over and over again not to do that. They said it was an affront to God and constituted deviant behavior -- even when you're by yourself, let alone with someone else."
"Sally, do you mean you don't ever give yourself a little "relief" when there's no man around?"
"I guess it seems pretty strange to you, huh?"
"I've got to tell you Sally, that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard. Lot's of kids get that message, but I've never known of anybody who actually adhered to it. Don't you ever just want an orgasm so badly you can't wait for a partner? I couldn't make it for more than a few days."
"Well, actually, please don't tell the Beemer this, but I don't really get to that point with him either. He really means well, but I don't think he's very experienced (not that I am either) and he just doesn't seem to know what will work for me."
"Sounds like all the more reason to show him, Sally. Don't you think so?"
"It sounds so logical when you say it, Mercedes, but I just plain don't know what to do or what to show him -- not only that; the idea scares me silly."
"Look Sally, I've got an idea. If you two have thoughts about a lasting relationship, you're going to need a little help in the lovemaking department. I guarantee, if we don't fix this problem, not only may you lose the Beemer, you're unlikely to have a long-term relationship with anyone. I'm not sex therapist, but I've counseled lots of young people on sexual development and I know all about the common hang-ups. Sounds like you (and probably the Beemer) have more than your share. Why don't we all get together and see if I can help?"
"But what are we going to tell the Beemer?"
"I'm thinking the truth will work as well as anything. Does he know he's not satisfying you?"
"Well, not exactly."
"So does that mean you're faking orgasms when you make love?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Well, the first thing we're going to have to do is straighten the poor guy out. Continuing this charade isn't fair to either one of you."
"I suppose you're right, but I don't think I can tell him I've been so dishonest this whole time."
"Don't worry Sally. You let me take care of the Beemer. So do we have a deal? Are you willing to let me help you two get on the right track?"
After a long hesitation Sally said, "Well, I've got to tell you the idea is intimidating as hell, but I don't really see that I have a choice. Do you really think you can help?"
"Yes, Sally, I really do."
"OK. So will you set it up with the Beemer?"
"I'll talk to him right away."
My heart beat faster as I realized I would once again have the Beemer (and his girlfriend) at my mercy.
The Beemer couldn't believe it when I clued him in. At first he was really threatened and upset, but pretty quickly he agreed to my plan. I had the feeling he'd been using the memory of our session to pleasure himself, just as I had, and the thought of taking it to the next level was too much to resist -- no matter how embarrassing it got. We chose the following Saturday at noon for their lesson. I gave the Beemer strict instructions not to ejaculate after his usual morning session on Wednesday. I wanted him to be good and ready. I called Sally to confirm.
Sally and the Beemer arrived at my apartment at about the same time, but separately. I thought it was a good idea that they not see each other without my supervision until our session. Sally looked like shit. On the other hand, the Beemer was practically salivating. He had been a mess before our first encounter, but I could tell he was really looking forward to this one. I had the feeling the poor guy really had followed my abstinence order.
I'm not a big doper, but a little wine and marijuana seemed like just the thing to help us relax. I knew what we were about to attempt would be a real stretch for Sally and I wanted us all to be as comfortable as possible. The Beemer told me Sally and he smoked dope (in fact he said that was part of the problem because he became more disappointed at their lack of sexual inventiveness when he was high). I brought out a bottle of wine, three glasses, and suggested we split a joint. It turned out to be a great idea because we all began to relax and talk about just regular stuff. Movies we had seen, our parents, stuff like that. I think everyone was a little nervous about what was about to happen, and I suspect there was a bit of denial going on. Finally, I decided it was time to get down to business.
"Sally," I said, "Why don't you tell the Beemer what you like the most about his body?"
She knew there was no more stalling, and her body stiffened.