The Cumming of Nancy

Author’s note: This story is true to the best of my recollection although time and my limited, male perspective have clouded the facts.

While Psych 4610 was the easiest class in many respects (no tests and few papers) it was hard because it required me to really analyze myself. Each class required thought and preparation, because the majority of class was a group session. If you were not prepared the group would know it and would be merciless.

I had not prepared as well as I should for today’s lesson, but really I could not think of anything. We were supposed to divulge something about ourselves that we had never told anyone before. I always felt fairly open and had no real secrets, so what would I tell? Besides, I had two extremely close friends, and they already knew EVERYTHING about me.

Class began with the rules for this session, particularly that nothing said here could be divulged, outside of class, under any circumstances. This lesson is about trust and a violation of that trust is grounds for a failing grade. That being said, we arranged our chairs around the table and began.

I started since no one else volunteered. “When I was seven I stole some candy from the local store”, I began, “my Mom caught me and made me go back to the store and apologize to the owner. I was so embarrassed that I could barely look her in the eyes.”

I guess I am still embarrassed since I never told another person.

The group nodded appreciatively and asked a few polite questions but I soon realized that my disclosure was anything but risky. We moved on.

Jim was next. Jim was a perpetual student whose goal in life was to never have to repay his student loans. To accomplish this he stayed in college. He was old (to my, then young eyes) maybe forty-five, and was working on his third B.A., this one in Psychology. He already had one in History and another in English. He was very distinguished looking with salt and pepper hair and a matching neatly trimmed beard. He was thin, tall and ruggedly handsome with sort of a Sam Elliot look. He was quick with a joke or would help a friend in need with a warm smile and an attentive ear. He was also supremely self-confident. It was strange to see him fidget and struggle with his words as he nervously pulled a sheet of paper from his notebook.

“I have been feeling a little run down lately” he began “so I went to my doctor for a checkup. One thing led to another and I had to have dye injected; they took pictures of my heart. From that, the doctor came to this conclusion,” He turned the paper over and on it was a drawing of a heart that had several markings on it and percentages alongside. Jim explained how the doctor found that he had eighty to ninety percent blockage in the main arteries of his heart and would require at least a triple bypass operation in the very near future. He was discussing this with his family and girlfriend to decide what to do and what, if any, other options there might be.

We all sat there in stunned silence for a while then asked a few questions and expressed our genuine concern for our friend. Jim assured us he was on top of it now and would be taking the appropriate actions.

Next was Elizabeth. Elizabeth was in her mid thirties and divorced. She was looking for a new career and chose to get her degree in Psychology as a start. She hoped to be a counselor in the future. She was conservatively dressed, attractive and friendly, but a little too shy for my tastes. Her eyes began to water as she tightly clutched her hands together in front of her.

“I have been taking some of my coursework at night” she began. “One night last semester, I was leaving class and heading to my car when I was approached by one of the foreign students, from Iran, I think. He asked me out to have a drink and to go dancing with him. I told him no, politely, yet firmly, and continued to my car. He stayed with me and began making suggestions as to my appearance and how all American women were whores and just wanted to know how much I wanted to satisfy him.

“I ignored him and hurried to towards my car. Then he grabbed me by my arm and clamped his other hand over my mouth. He dragged me to a van nearby and threw me inside.” She paused to regain composure. The tears streamed freely down her face now; we all hung on her every word.

“He tore off my clothes and…”she sobbed and blurted out, “raped me.” After a moment she continued smoother and more confident now, “He told me afterwards that if I told anybody, he had half a dozen friends who would swear he was with them and whether he won or lost the court case they would come to my house and rape me in front of my children before slitting our throats like the ‘pigs’ we were.” She broke down with this as one of the girls in the class hugged her. “Until, now I have never told another soul” she whispered.

Again stunned, we all sat within our thoughts. I cannot speak for anyone else but mine centered on how insignificant my problems have been and how small my stolen candy must have seen to Elizabeth and Jim. I also wondered, “What can possibly be next?”

Del Monte was the next to speak. Del was the least known to me personally, as he was another non-traditional student. He was in his late 30’s with brown hair and a huge mustache that seemed to take on a life of its own. It practically eclipsed his mouth except for when he laughed, which was often. He also had a hippy type persona that made him shy away from establishment. I was a student senator and the editor for the paper so for students, I was about as close to the “establishment” as I could get.

He paused before he spoke as if to gauge the trust of the group then began, “Several years ago I lived on a terrific ranch in Montana. It had everything: its own well, its own electricity and abundant food. I could live there for years without needing anything. Unfortunately I decided I did need something and grew a beautiful marijuana crop. It did better than I expected and attracted the attention of some passersby. Well, they told someone who told someone and next thing you know I am in the Sheriff’s office trying to cop a plea. I ended up spending a year on probation and having to attend drug counseling sessions.” He looked up and added, “I have never told anyone that about that.”

My reaction to his story was not nearly as dramatic as the others. Del seemed like the type that I would suspect as having done time, so I was not really surprised. Still it was quite an admission that he easily could have hidden. I was feeling even smaller about my stolen gum.

The last person up was Nancy. Nancy was a thirty something stay at home mom looking for a second career. She had always been nice but, well, she lived in a different world. We really had nothing in common outside of Psychology. She blushed a deep crimson as she began haltingly. “I have been married for twelve years to a wonderful man. We have an OK sex life and neither of us had had many lovers before we were married. I was a virgin.” She blushed again and continued.

“Anyway, the thing I have never told anyone else is that I have a medical problem. I am unable to have an orgasm; I have never had one even though we have tried. We tried so much that I started to fake it to please him and, well here we are. “

While the others at there stunned, I could not help but analyze this from a medical perspective. I had been a lab tech for six years and like the movie Doctors, I thought I knew at least as much as the real doctors did. So I asked, “Do you have the usual sexual organs: Labia, clitoris, etc.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well,” I continued, “do you lack sensation or feeling when you are touched in those places?”

“No,” she said, “it feels quite good and I can get aroused in the usual sense, but I have never experienced the clinical orgasm like it is described in the books. No screaming, no blinding lights, just that it feels good and stops when he does.”

I could not let it go, I had to ask, “Well how about by yourself, have you tried using your own senses to guide you?” “Yep,” she said, “still nothing.”

I was genuinely confused, part of her statement about a medical condition made sense but she did not describe anything like that. It seemed either psychological or a matter of technique and experience. Most likely it was both. I was single and 22, I knew everything, and so I told her my theory. She seemed to consider the ramifications as the bell rang and class broke up. Instead of the usual break and run everyone seemed to want to talk so we met back at the union. We talked about our various revelations until everyone had to go except Nancy and I. Our classes were done for the day so we just talked some more.

She had not said much since I revealed my theory. Instead, she had participated in figuring out how to deal with all the information from everyone else; my bubble gum theft was not mentioned. She asked, “so you really don’t think there is anything physically wrong with me?”

“Well,” I replied, “I can’t tell for certain by talking; but, no, I think that you just don’t know how to let go and your husband does not know how to continue until you do. It is quite possible that he may not actually know how to do it well enough to help, if what you said about his inexperience is true.

“Really, I think that once you experienced it, the pressure would be gone and you would know how to get there, what to expect and how to guide him better. I remember the first time I ever came I thought I was peeing and stopped myself many times before figuring out what happened after that and taking the risk.

“How about cunnilingus,” I asked a little too boldly, “does he do that?”

“Well a little” she said “but no, not very well.”

“You’re in luck” I said, only half joking, “that’s my specialty. We could head off to my place and I’ll give you that great big magical O with my talented tongue. No one would need to know and you could go on with that bit of pressure off your plate.” Amazingly, she seemed to be considering the idea so I pressed on.

“Really, it’s all in the interest of your physical health. It is obvious this has been weighing on your mind a long time. Your relationship will probably be better if you are able to get over this hurdle.” I gave her my best clinical smile, no lust at all, simply a doctor consulting a patient until she said, “OK, let’s go. I have a couple hours, will that be enough time?”

“Yeah,” I said, “let’s go.” I was a little less sure. I knew that metaphorically I had to hit a home run on the only time at the plate when her husband had never been able to do it. We both drove to my humble abode and by that I mean trailer down by the river. We chatted a little after going in and got down to business. This was a medical session so there was no kissing, no preliminary fondling, she just took off her pants and sat back on the bean bag chair, waiting.

I could hear the crowd roar as I stepped up to the plate, or in this instance, lay down on the floor and prepared myself for the game.

Slowly I rubbed her feet and legs, making her feel more comfortable while putting her in the right position. She began to respond favorable so I kissed each leg as I traveled up her thighs slowly and carefully with a feather light touch, raising her senses to the heightened state. As my hands reached ahead for her panties, she raised herself off of the seat to allow me to pull them quickly off.

No wonder she said yes, I realized, she was so wet she dripped; her pubic hair glistened in the light. It was such a beautiful site I knew that it would stay in my memory forever. After gazing at her beautiful bush I began my work. Slowly I kissed and licked, beginning at her right knee just on the inside and a bit under. She responded a little and I moved slowly up a few inches and nibbled and licked again. I crept ever close each time moving only an inch or so then stopping to lick slowly on her inner thigh. I imagined a clit was there and licked and circled the imaginary clit over and over again until it was time to move closer.

As I got closer, she began to respond in anticipation, her thighs parted and she began to rock subtly small moans escaped her lips at each move closer. I stroked her thighs and massaged towards her butt as I moved closer. Finally, I was there in front of her opening. The last move had brought me in front of the lovely site.

Her aroma filled my nostrils and I longed to suck her juices. But now was not the time. I blew my hot breath on her waiting lips. She gasped at the first sensation and held her breath waiting for the tongue that never came. Slowly I moved to the other thigh and began my kissing and licking routine once again. Stroking her thighs and nibbling I moved slowly back down her left thigh. I moved only an inch or two back down.

Each movement took me further away from the object of my desire but made her relax noticeably. As she relaxed she began to show signs of being even more turned on. Her aroma filled the air like incense.

When I reached the inside of her left knee I stopped. I stroked her thighs a little and began the return trip back up her thigh. This time I paused a little less each lick and moved a little further each move. In this way, the trip to her waiting lips took less time than before. Just as before, her breath quickened as I got closer and ever closer.

On the last stop, just inches from her waiting, wet lips, I moved above it and paused once again as she gasped and held her breath waiting for the first electric touch. All that came was my hot breath cooling the fire that was on her lips as I moved across and began the trek down her right thigh. She sighed almost imperceptibly in disappointment. I took this to be a good sign and moved further down her leg again.

When I finally reached her knee and stroked her leg, she knew the drill; she began to respond in anticipation of my movement back up. Her legs trembled, and moved almost involuntarily, her hands stroked my hair as I moved back up her thigh a little quicker this time. I moved perhaps three inches at a movement and paused a little less as if racing to the inevitable point when I would plunge my tongue deep inside her.

She felt the urgency and urged it forward. She raised her ass and rocked forward in anticipation as I got closer and closer grabbing me by the hair to help guide me to the place I obviously had been unable to find on my own. By now her fear and dread had given way to passion and longing for what was to come. As I hovered over the top of her drenched lips pouring their juices down my beanbag chair, I almost quit the game plan and gave in to her desire. I allowed the briefest contact of her lips with my lips as I blew on her fire and moved on. She sighed quite loudly in obvious disappointment. Her legs were moving about on their own as if they could somehow drag my lips to her waiting orifice of there own volition. Still I moved back down her thigh, stroking, nibbling, kissing, licking, until I reached her knee where I paused and gave her a preview.

I began to suck and lick the inside of her knee as if it were the object of my desire (and hers). She gasped as I furiously licked and sucked the imaginary clitoris on the inside of her knee, foretelling of what it would be like when my tongue was set free on her flaming clit. Finally I moved to a spot halfway between her knee and her beautiful, dripping oasis. There I licked long hard strokes, imagining myself licking all the juices that had been building inside her.

My tongue, at present was now a hard, long, object instead of the softly lapping teaser. She responded wildly and once again grabbed my hair, this time pulling at me; urging me to do that in the right place. I resisted at first, but finally stopped and moved as if in capitulation directly over her luscious, saturated opening. Her hands held me firmly, her hips rose to help me to find the place I obviously could not find on my own.

My hot breath was now fanning her fire as I extended my tongue and flicked it once on her lips in the lightest touch possible. The response was electric. I could not have made her jump more if I had hooked up a car battery directly to her lips. She moaned in anticipation and nearly leapt off of the chair. Soon she moaned in disappointment though as I moved slowly back down her other thigh. Once again I imagined a clit, this time on her inner thigh just six inches from the real one and gave the imaginary button the licking of its life. My imagination was not lost on her, she moaned and responded with fierce rocking movements, almost as if I were actually where she wanted me to be.

I knew that this portion of the proceeding needed to end soon. Continuing it much longer would be torture and actually I could not imagine getting her any hotter. She was ready. As inched closer, I could feel her thrusting towards me silently imploring me to finally give her what she needed. I complied this time. At first I used my tongue so lightly as to be almost imperceptible. Each delicate flick of the tongue created another gasp combined with a jolt as if it were an electric shock. Gradually I increased the pressure until at last I was lapping her free-flowing juices in a desperate attempt to drink them all. As I continued lapping and stroking her lips with my tongue I kneaded her sexy butt and thighs creating a rhythm that she could follow. She began to hump my face as the tempo increased at her urging.

All the while I avoided even the slightest contact on her engorged clit. As the momentum became harder and she tried to drive herself onto my face, I stopped. Rising up to the clit, I hovered over it as she held her breath. I blew my hot breath on it and moved back down to licking her slowly up and down the length of her lips. I knew that once I licked her clit, there would be no turning back, if I did not get her hot enough I could lose the momentum by making her desensitized.

So continuing the game, I stroked her sopping lips with my tongue pausing every so often to blow on her clit but no more than that. The urgency of her humping increased, once or twice she tried to pull me onto her clit by the hair. I waited until she became nearly frantic with desire before I began the final phase.

Hovering once again over her clit I flicked it with my tongue. The effect was as I had hoped; she nearly sprang off of the chair. But I did not expect her to grab me by the hair and pull hard into her as she thrust forward. Apparently, I had teased a little too long. I began licking her clit in earnest. We set up a rhythm that included kneading her thighs, rubbing her lips with my fingers, but most of all sucking and stroking her clit with my soft tongue.

As the rhythm grew, I realized that I needed to hurry, my tongue was becoming increasingly sore, my jaw was locking up and it was hard to breath with my head shoved forcibly into her mound. So I worked it hard and fast my tongue alternating from side to side, up and down, and stroking her clit while lapping the juices flowing everywhere.

Her rocking rhythm became faster and faster, nearly out of control couple with a low moaning growing louder and louder until finally just as I was about to tire completely out she yanked my hair into her harder, thrust upwards and convulsed while drenching my face with her cum juices. She came harder than anyone I had ever seen and lasted longer through it until it began to subside and she shoved me away from her now, too sensitive body.

I took that time to breathe and recover the use of my jaw. I watched in awe as she continued to moan and rock back and forth as if some unseen force was still humping her, until gradually, she became still. Her eyes focused on the room, and then finally on me. Tears began to stream down her face as she sobbed and pulled her panties and pants on quickly, and without a word fled the room, jumped in her car and dashed off.