Now and Forever--Let's Make Love (3 page)

Now things are a bit different. You’re together every evening, every night. You go to sleep together and wake up together.
You see him floss his teeth. He smells your morning breath. You see each other’s naked bodies before bed every night. By itself,
that sight isn’t as stimulating as it used to be. Understandably, frequency cools the flames a bit. The urgency is gone, and
there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a natural part of getting to know each other. But many couples worry if the frequency
drops from once a day to once or twice a week.

More than thirty-five years ago, before my seventeen-year marriage, my then boyfriend and I learned about sex together. We
made love anywhere we could, from the front seat of his 1954 Ford to my living-room couch. What began with kissing escalated
to petting, caressing, and mutual masturbation. We were, and had been, each other’s one and only, and we were hot together.
By the time we were actually ready to remove our clothes and “do it,” we were so excited that our mating was fast and, although
not orgasmic for me, satisfying. We made love anytime, anyplace we could.

Once we were married, however, I subtly set a few limitations. First, I limited our couplings to soft, comfortable surfaces.
No more gearshift levers in awkward places, no rug burns from living-room floors, no scratchy sofa cushions. I wanted a bed.
Next, I told my husband that I did not like love-making while I was menstruating. Many men and women find that there is no
reason not to continue intercourse at those times, but it didn’t feel good to me, and it still doesn’t. So once sex was possible
every evening if we wanted, I could suggest a few restrictions. My husband probably had his limits, too, but we never really
discussed them. They just got subtly integrated into the pattern of our loving.

As a newlywed and a product of the sexually naïve society of the fifties, I was uneducated as to what to expect from a sexual
relationship. The fact that I had never climaxed didn’t faze me. If the truth be told, I’m not sure I knew what an orgasm
was until I had been married for more than ten years. However, what I didn’t know didn’t bother me.

Nowadays, women are, I hope, much more attuned to their own needs, both physical and emotional. Many women have explored their
own sexuality with a number of partners, each learning and teaching the other, exploring the things that give pleasure. Although
there are those who still, sadly, label masturbation “bad,” many women have learned about their own bodies by touching themselves—a
fine art, which, unfortunately, I didn’t explore until after my thirtieth birthday.

As a woman, if you don’t already know your body and its pleasure and “hot buttons,” this might be a good time to learn, the
way Sandy did.

Sandy lay in the bathtub, reading her newest romance novel. “He slipped his fingers between her legs,” she read, “and caressed
her wet flesh. He felt her hips move as though they had a mind of their own. ‘Oh yes, my love,’ he crooned, ‘want me. I’ll
give you so much pleasure….’ ”

Sandy’s eyes moved to the ceiling. Although she was nineteen, she had never really explored her own body. She had had intercourse
many times over the past year with a few different boys in her classes at the local community college, and those times had
been exciting and wonderful. But, she thought now, no one has ever slipped his fingers into my naked folds. How would it feel?
she wondered.

Holding the book in one hand and rereading the last few sentences, she slipped the index finger of her other hand through
her pubic hair and between her outer lips. This feels so slutty and dirty, she thought. But it also feels different. Her finger
gently rubbed through the folds on either side of her swelling clitoris.

As her inquisitive finger slid farther back, she found her inner lips and the slippery substance oozing from inside her. “Ummm,”
she heard herself purr. She gradually began to explore, touching places that she had never touched before, enjoying the pleasure
of it. I never realized how nice this would feel, she thought. She slowly realized that her nipples were hardening and she
was getting hungry. I want something inside my pussy, she realized. She looked around and saw her toothbrush in the glass
beside the sink. I wonder …

She reached for the brush and then hesitated. I can’t do this, she thought. It’s kinky and perverse. But, she argued, it’s
my body, and I can do with it what I want. And I want this.

She took the toothbrush and lowered it into the warm water. She slid the handle through the folds she had so recently explored
for the first time with her finger. Her breathing faster now, she tentatively inserted the smooth plastic handle of the toothbrush
into her slippery pussy. Marveling at the difference in feel between the water and her own juices, she rubbed the handle over
her wet membranes. She lowered her dry hand into the water and rubbed her now-swollen clitoris. She found places that felt
exceptionally good and then rubbed them more, until she felt the shudders of a small orgasm tremble through her body.

“Oh my,” she said later as she tossed the toothbrush into the sink. “Oh my.”

It is easy for a man to discover exactly what excites him. He usually explores his body and finds his erogenous zones at an
early age. They’re so easy to find. They just stick out there in plain sight and within easy reach. Psychologists believe
that every boy masturbates frequently before he reaches puberty, whether with a hand, while lying on his stomach on the floor,
or while rubbing against a favorite toy. After puberty, hormones rage and erections are sudden and often unexpected. Many
a teenaged boy has had to ride past his bus stop to avoid standing up and revealing his immense hard-on.

But here again, society makes things difficult.

“Don’t touch that; it’s dirty.”

“You’ll grow hair on your hands.”

“You’ll become desensitized, so you won’t be able to enjoy a woman.”

There are even parents who tell their sons, “You have only so many erections. Keep doing that and you’ll use them up. Then
what?” Many men who’ve internalized this warning think that by age fifty they will be unable to have an erection—something
that they believe is borne out by the natural changes that come with age, and which I will cover in chapter 5.

So we make a man ashamed and afraid of touching his own body. He will probably do it anyway, although he may become frustrated
while desire wars with societal warnings.

As a society, we really mess with our children’s heads.

Eventually, with hormones rampant, young people begin to experiment with sex. They touch each other, rub, and finally try
sexual intercourse. It’s wonderful and fulfilling, and soon everything else slips into the background. All they can think
about is their next opportunity to be together, maybe with the time, the place, and the privacy to have intercourse. It’s
probably not lovemaking yet, just acrobatic fucking, but it’s very satisfying.

The first step in establishing a mutually satisfying relationship is to know your own body. If you don’t, explore. After all,
how can you help your partner learn what gives you pleasure if you haven’t found out yourself?

You and your partner have made the commitment to be a couple, but the animal heat has cooled a bit. Make that the good news.
Now that you’re partners and have the time to learn and share, maybe the two of you can take this opportunity to learn not
only about yourself but also about each other and what gives pleasure and what does not. In the story that follows, we meet
up with Sandy a few years later. Although by now, Sandy has learned what pleases her body, discussing specific sexual matters
with her new husband, Jake, isn’t always easy.

Sandy and Jake had met at an intersection when, as the result of a drunken driver, both Sandy’s Toyota and Jake’s Escort had
been damaged. As they exchanged information, Jake had looked into Sandy’s deep brown eyes and suggested that they wait for
the tow trucks in the diner just down the block. Coffee led to dinner, and seven months later, they were married.

About six weeks after the wedding, Sandy and Jake were lying in bed together, watching the evening news. “I’m finding it hard
to come down after the awful day I had. I think I’ll take a bath,” Sandy said.

Playfully, Jake asked, “Can I join you?” “There’s not a lot of room in the tub,” Sandy said, smiling seductively and knowing
that playing with her new husband was just the tonic she needed.

“That’s the idea,” Jake said, and soon they were naked and up to their chests in hot, soapy water.

“Is your leg comfortable?” Sandy asked as she shifted position.

Jake wiggled his toes, which were firmly pressed against Sandy’s hip. “Fine,” he said, taking the soap from the holder and
working up a thick lather in his hands. “Let me wash your shoulders.” He rubbed his slippery hands over Sandy’s neck and upper
arms, then down her breasts.

“Ooh baby,” Sandy said, “we won’t get much washing done if you keep that up.”

“I’m keeping it up, okay?” Jake said, swirling his soapy fingers over Sandy’s wet breast. “Feel.” While massaging one globe,
Jake took Sandy’s hand and guided it between his legs to his hard cock.

“You certainly are up,” Sandy said, grinning. Jake was always hot for her, and she lusted after him, as well.

“Do you like the way my hand feels?” Jake asked on the spur of the moment.

“Of course,” Sandy said, enjoying the feel of Jake’s fingers on her breast and her hand wrapped around his cock.

Jake slid his hand lower and rubbed Sandy’s belly. It was all Sandy could do not to pull away as Jake found her most ticklish
spots. “You don’t really like where I’m touching you now, do you?” Jake persisted.

“It’s just that I’m ticklish,” Sandy admitted, and she felt Jake’s hand stop.

“You don’t like being tickled, do you?”

“Not really.”

“So why don’t you just tell me to stop? Or move my hand?”

Sandy hesitated. “It’s hard to tell you I don’t like something you do.”

“But how else am I supposed to know? I want to do things that give you pleasure, not things that make you uncomfortable.”

“I know that, silly,” Sandy said.

“But how can I do that if you don’t tell me what you like, or at least what you don’t like? I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

When Sandy had no answer, Jake slipped his fingers into Sandy’s pussy hair. “Do you like it when I do this?” he asked. “I
really want to touch you in all the best places.”

“What you’re doing feels good,” Sandy said, sighing.

“Yes,” Jake persisted, “but what feels best?”

“I don’t know. Just touch me.” To deflect the embarrassing conversation, Sandy rubbed her hand along Jake’s cock. “Maybe we
should get out of the tub and make love.”

“Hmm, maybe we should.” Jake stood up, guided Sandy to a standing position, opened the drain, and turned on the shower. “But
first, I, for one, need to rinse off,” he said, adjusting the shower to a warm pulsating spray.

Sandy felt Jake turn her so her back was against his chest, her chest directly under the water. He wrapped his hands around
her and massaged her breasts, pinching her hard nipples until they stood out from her chest, tight and tingling. “Nice,” she
purred.

As the water sluiced down her body, Sandy felt Jake’s teeth nibble at the tendon that ran across the top of her shoulder.
“I don’t want to tickle you,” he said as his hand slid quickly down her belly and between her legs. “Does this tickle?”

“No, baby,” Sandy said. “That feels great.”

His fingers rubbed her erect clit. “Does this feel better?”

“Feels good,” Sandy moaned.

“Yes, but what feels best?”

“You do. Everything you do.” Sandy was breathing quickly now, hungry for what was to come.

“Show me,” Jake said. “Put your hand over mine and show me where you want me to touch you.”

Sandy stiffened. She frequently masturbated in the warm water of the tub, but this was entirely different. This was kinky.
She couldn’t touch herself with anyone knowing—even Jake, even with his hand between her hand and her body. “Oh baby. Everything
you do gives me pleasure,” she mumbled. “You know that.”

“I do, but I want to know more.”

“You are very stubborn,” Sandy said, her reluctance cooling some of her sexual desire. “Can’t you let this go?”

“I don’t want to, baby,” Jake said. “I want to know how to please you.”

Seizing on a way to divert his attention, Sandy said, “Will you show me what you like?”

Jake hesitated, then said softly, “Okay. I will if you will.” He quickly turned off the shower, grabbed two towels, and handed
one to his wife.

In only moments, naked and still damp from their shower, Sandy and Jake were in the bedroom, stretched out on the bed. Jake’s
hand caressed her breast, teasing her erect nipple, his mouth beside her ear. “Show me what you like, baby.”

“You promised you’d show me what
you
like first.” She propped herself up on her elbow, both excited and curious.

Jake smiled up at her. “I guess I did.” His cock was hard and it stuck straight up from his groin. He took Sandy’s hand in
his and molded her fingers around his hard shaft. He slowly used Sandy’s fist to rub up and down. “I like it when you hold
my cock like this.”

Sandy had rubbed Jake’s cock often, so she reached for the tube of K-Y jelly on the bedside table. “Let me make my hand slippery,”
she said, squeezing a big dollop of chilling lubricant onto her palm. “Okay,” she said, placing the tube back in the drawer,
“where were we?”

“You had your hand on my cock,” Jake said, his breathing raspy and uneven.

“And you were showing me what you like.”

Again, Jake took Sandy’s hand and pressed it against his erection. “Cold,” he said. “I love it when your hand is so cold and
so slippery.” He slowly guided her hand up and down his cock.

He’s moving much more slowly than I do, she thought, and pressing more softly. I always thought he liked it fast and tight.