The Enlightened Sex Manual Sexual Skills For The Superior Lover By David Deida (Abee) by Unknown

Author:Unknown [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: RP V2.0
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three:

Variations

I remember one of the many times I received instruction from a woman about the different ways to stimulate sexual energy.

I was about sixteen years old, sitting in my mother's sta-tion wagon with my girlfriend. I had picked her up after school and we had driven to the beach. We sat in the car. Watched the ocean. Accidentally touched arms a few times. The silence was excruciating. Over the last several months, we had had sex a few times and made out a few more times, but it was weeks since we had seen each other. Finally we were together, alone, in a car.

After great deliberation, I reached over and held her hand in mine. I could hear her breathe a single deep breath, a sigh, really.

I felt better. Yes. Holding her hand was the right thing to do. I had no idea what to do next.

She must have felt my eager dumbness. She said, "Can I show you something I really like?"

"Sure," I said, relieved that maybe I would now know what to do with her.

She sat back in the car seat as if preparing herself for some huge, overwhelming treat. I thought maybe she was about to reveal a mysterious fondling technique that the girls talked about with great longing while they smoked cigarettes in the high school bathroom.

{105}

THE ENLIGHTENED SEX MANUAL

I was still in the driver's seat of the parked car, holding her hand. She looked into my eyes and raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'Are you ready?"

She brought her right hand to hover over the inside of her left wrist. Then, ever so slowly and gently, she began stroking the entire length of the inside of her forearm, her fingertips barely touching her skin. From the inside of her wrist to the crook of her elbow, up and down, very, very slowly, she caressed herself.

Her eyes closed. Her pelvis started rocking. I felt useless.

Stroking her own arm, she was eliciting more pleasure from herself than I had ever seemed able to arouse with all my manly ministrations on top of her, beneath her, or behind her.

She took my free hand in hers and guided it to her forearm.

She glided my fingertips slowly over the softness of the inside of her arm. Up and down, up and down, barely touching her silken flesh. When I got the hang of it, she released my hand. I was on my own. I continued stroking her arm. She seemed to sink further back into the passenger seat, licking her lips, rocking her pelvis, moaning from her belly.

On the one hand, I felt greatly relieved. This was easy. I could do this. If this was all it took to drive her crazy with pleasure, my days of confusion were over. On the other hand, I felt more befuddled than ever. How the heck would I have ever figured out that I was supposed to stroke the inside of her forearm to turn her on? What if she had

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