Nice Couples Do
NICE COUPLES DO.
Copyright © 1991 by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Warner Books
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
ISBN: 978-0-7595-2120-9
A trade paperback edition of this book was published in 1991 by Warner Books.
First eBook Edition: February 2001
FANTASIES CAN COME TRUE.
THEY CAN HAPPEN TO YOU.
“The guard is going to punish his prisoner,” Dave murmured, “and there’s nothing she can do about it.” As he watched Judy’s face, he realized he was as excited as she was by the images on the movie screen. Yes, he wanted to see his wife tied up, at his mercy, and it was clear she wanted it, too. Dave vowed to make it happen…
Cory’s massages were always professional. His face was immobile while he stroked and kneaded the firm flesh of his female clients, never letting his hands move in an erotic manner. Until he met Lilia…
At midnight, the guests unmasked and their host announced the prize winners. To no one’s surprise, Susan, dressed as a sexy girl pirate, and Frank, her half-naked slave and bodyguard, won first prize. But the best prize for both of them came a little later, once they got home…
“I could make you a crystal that would make you irresistible to men,” said the wizard to the love-lorn Gabrielle, “but you would have to agree to my conditions. I just want to watch you and some handsome man make love right here in my workroom.”
“Is that really all?” the beautiful Gabrielle replied…
J
OAN
L
LOYD
is a high school teacher who lives outside of New York City. Of herself, she says, “Like ‘J,’ the author of
The Sensuous Woman,
I’m someone who stumbled on new activities to increase the range of my sexual activity. And I’ve found a new way to communicate with my sexual partner—a way that works. I wrote this book to share with you the wonderful things I’ve learned.”
This book is dedicated:
To my family, immediate and extended, for all their support.
To Jamie and Meg for all their help.
To ‘Pete’ for showing me how.
To Ed for teaching me why.
If you are the recipient of this book, don’t panic.
Someone is trying to tell you something wonderful.
Contents
MY STORY
T
en years ago, my husband and I divorced after almost twenty years of marriage. The reasons are irrelevant. My marriage had been over for a long time before my husband and I actually separated. After my husband departed, I felt great relief and I’m sure he felt the same. We went our separate ways without much rancor and are still friends.
Typical children of our generation, when we married in the early sixties we were just out of our teens. My husband had some sexual experience, gained in the front seat of his car. I had none. Therefore, we had no way of knowing what was possible or what we enjoyed.
So we explored. We petted in his 1956 Chevy while listening to rock music and watching the “submarine races.” I can still remember how my hunger was satisfied when he touched my breasts. I had never gone further so his touching my nipples was a culmination of some kind.
Then, when he first touched my vagina, through my underpants, again there was a degree of satisfaction. This continued through his touching my bare skin, putting his fingers inside me, and my learning the rudiments of touching him. Each time we took a step forward into a land where I had never been before, it was exhilarating.
The first time we made love—yes, it was making love and not just fucking—it was delicious. I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him inside of me. It was missionary position, but that was fine with me.
Through my years of marriage, I read. As romance novels became popular, I read books by Rosemary Rogers, Jennifer Wilde, and Danielle Steel. In some, there were actual descriptions of sex; in others, the author just alluded to it. Always, the sexual exploits of the hero and heroine were of a type that I had never experienced. I thought they were only the stuff of fiction.
I started to think that maybe there was more to sex than missionary position quickies or missionary position longies, but I had no idea how to talk to my husband about sex.
Understand that I’m not faulting my husband. It was mutual ignorance. I didn’t know what I wanted, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known how to ask for it. He may well have had the same problem.
At thirty, I learned about masturbation and practiced until I could give myself a physically satisfying orgasm. I frequently did so in the bathroom in the middle of the night, after a particularly erotic dream or a less-than-fulfilling experience with my husband.
In the late seventies, after my divorce, I began the sexual experimentation that I hadn’t done as a young adult. I quickly learned that one-night stands weren’t sexually rewarding. On the contrary, they usually left me more frustrated than I had been when I started. They were good for my ego, since I repeatedly proved to myself that I was an attractive woman, but they did not satisfy my desire to make something more out of my sex life.
In 1983, a small incident with a man in my office introduced me to the world of creative sex and provided me with the key to my own ability to communicate sexually.
I had been having lunch with a man, whom I will call Pete, once a week for a few months. Our talks had gotten intimate enough so that he knew I was unattached and hungry. He was certainly hitting on me and I was willing to be hit upon.
He was also recently divorced and a bit more uninhibited in his conversation than I was. Gradually, he revealed that he was involved in a few sexual relationships, one of which involved sexual activities that were, shall we say, not in the mainstream.
Although I blushed as he described some of these activities, I think my face quickly revealed that I was titillated. He asked me whether I had ever considered “spicing up my sex life.” I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I couldn’t admit anything, so I stammered some inane reply. He sensed my communication problem.
“It has always upset me,” he said, “that two people could be interested in the same thing and never have the ability to communicate what that is.”
“Yeah, me, too,” was all that I could say.
“Maybe I have a way that we can explore our mutual interests without talking.”
I was fascinated, but Pete changed the subject and we parted that afternoon without my learning anything more.
The next morning, I found a copy of an erotic magazine in a paper bag on my desk chair. There was a note attached.
Read this magazine sometime when you’re alone. Find an article that excites you. Put a bookmark in the appropriate page and put the magazine in my top desk drawer.
The note was signed P.
I had never read a magazine like this one, which specialized in exotic sex. There was a section on voyeurism, one on threesomes, and one, which nearly drove me crazy, on bondage.
Three days later, I crept into Pete’s office before he arrived at work and, with trembling hands, I put the magazine in his desk. I had put a bookmark in an article about a woman who had been tied to a bed, teased, and eventually well fucked.
Just before lunch, Pete stuck his head into my office. I was on a long-distance phone call, so I couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t have to. He walked over to my chair and tied a thin ribbon around my wrist. Then, surreptitiously, he stroked the obvious bulge in the front of his slacks. Then he winked and left.
I could hardly sit still. I completed my phone call and, with my heart pounding, I went into his office.
“Is that really what interests you?” Pete asked without preamble.
I still couldn’t talk about it. I just nodded.
“Would you like me to tie you up like the woman in the article and make love to you for hours?” he asked.
I couldn’t have said a word. I swallowed hard and just nodded again.
“How about after work today, my place. I’ll meet you by the elevators at five-thirty. And just leave the ribbon around your wrist to remind you of what we’re going to do later.” As if I could forget.
The rest of my brief relationship with Pete is history. Let me just say that our time together was a turning point in my sex life.
I spent the next few years trying to communicate my desires for unconventional sex with my partners. A few were unreceptive and thought that sexual creativity was something for whores and their johns. Nice girls weren’t interested in those things, or shouldn’t be. I tried to explain that enjoyment is where you find it and that there are all kinds of experiences in the world, but their minds were closed. Those relationships didn’t last long.
Other men were freer than I had been and were able to communicate desires of all types. We talked and played and enjoyed.
With still others, introducing the topic of varied sex and establishing a dialogue opened a world of sexual experimentation. Once or twice, what a man suggested was not my cup of tea. I merely said, in one way or another, “How about this instead.” Sometimes, he wasn’t interested in an activity I mentioned. One of us then suggested something else. Never did we fail to find something mutually exciting and rewarding.
During those years of exploration, I came to some conclusions. I believe that most of us have desires that go unexpressed and therefore unfulfilled. Some men go to prostitutes to do the things of which they are sure their wives would disapprove. Both men and women use singles bars to pick up partners for an evening of dinner and bed, hoping that variety will indeed be the spice of their lives.
