Krazy Aunt Kate

"Aunt Kate, I didn't know he had to work at it that hard? I mean I thought when we first starting having sex it was something he did to me."

Once he's inside you, he knows what it feels like for him, he can't know what you're feeling, know if he's in the right spot or not. You're the one in a position to know that. If his enjoyment of sex is tied to yours it makes sense if you make it good for yourself you also make it good for him. Be an active participant, don't lay there like a cold fish and expect it to be good, move until it feels good for you knowing its best for both of you.

Now I understood, it's something we did together. I'd no idea that was what it was about in terms of how much I was responsible for our mutual pleasure. I'd adjusted to the situation without consciously knowing why, now I knew I could do better.

"Aunt Kate, I always thought men just put it into you and it was easy for them."

"It is if they don't care if you enjoy it. They get inside and hump, humpty, humpty, give a few moans at the end and they're done and pleased as hell. You on the other hand, hardly felt a thing other than a sensation of having your hot, wet, pussy stuffed with something—it could have been a microwaved Italian sausage for all you knew. You got to feel it, not taste it so to speak."

This was far more graphic than I expected, but I understood her point. For sure, I'd never look at a package of Italian sausage again the same way.

"Honey, there are men who will fuck the living shit out of you and think it's been good for both of you and never ask you if it actually was. But, it's not easy for a man to hold back from going to orgasm. It takes discipline and experience to be good at something—sex is no different. But it takes the right attitude too."

"Yes, I guess I understand that."

"It's even harder when only one of you is experienced and the other isn't. Honey, if you're enjoying sex that much, it means he's doing his best for you. Right now you're new to sex and it's hard to think you shouldn't get it whenever you want it. But think about it, are you always in the mood to have sex? Will you be in the future?"

I screwed up my face; I knew the answer and it was a definite no. I wanted to be comfortable, in a safe place, and sometimes needed to be held and kissed to get me in the proper mood. I looked at her, "No."

"So, do you think he should service you like some stud bull? You spread your legs, show your sweet, hairy pussy and that's all it takes?"

I felt myself squirm with discomfort, my fingers intertwining, relaxing then firming again. Damnit! Peter wasn't like that and I didn't really want him to be. I felt a little shameful, I had thought of him that way—he was male and it was his job to deliver when I wanted it.

"I didn't think of it that way," I replied almost in a whisper.

"Honey, don't beat yourself up. I know you didn't know, but men can be just as sensitive to time and place as you are. Do you think Peter would be comfortable screwing you in the guest bedroom, your old room, with other people around where they might hear you? Maybe they would notice your absence and question where you were and what you were doing? What would your mother say if she suspected you were getting laid by your boyfriend right under her nose instead of visiting with the family?"

I felt my stomach tense. That would have put both of us in a bad place, a really bad place. I looked at her with a frown and replied softly, "I didn't think of that last night I guess."

"Honey, he did, and if you think about it, he had been driving all day, and was tired. He knew that in the morning there would be just three or four other people in the house to consider. He would be well-rested and able to give you his best effort and you wouldn't be disturbed while you got your pussy stuffed."

"Yes, I guess he did," once again feeling I hadn't stopped to consider the ramifications for him—let alone the both of us.

"One last thing, you and Peter will be sharing the same room and bed tonight with your parent's blessings. In fact, I think your mother made sure you knew that was acceptable didn't she?"

"Yes, she told me a few minutes ago it would be alright. I was really shocked, I hadn't expected it."

"It shocked you? Don't you think she already knows you're having sex with Peter?"

Oh my god! What was wrong with me? My parents already knew! No wonder my mother had given me that look after we arrived—and it was THAT look I now realized. Was I going brain dead? Had my mother looked at Peter the same way? Whoa! What about my father and Peter? No wonder Peter wanted to hold off doing me in my old room as I remembered the last time—I had been a bit more...ugh...vocal at the end, not loud, but...well...

"I guess I was wrong wasn't I?"

I saw her smile, then she leaned towards me, put her hand on my arm, and said gently, "Sex is the greatest pleasure a man and woman can share with one another and you have been lucky enough to find a man that cares enough to give you the best he can. I think you already know the answer to your question, you don't need me to tell you."

I sat for several seconds thinking, then smiled, "I do. Thank you, Aunt Kate, thank you for telling me what I wish I had known before."

But, I also understood why mother didn't tell me; she wasn't crazy like her sister was. It was much too personal for her and I appreciated that fact as never before.

"What is it you wish you had known before?" my mother asked as she walked up from behind us.

My mind froze, nothing came, no flippant come back, no casual suggestion we were talking about putting a picture puzzle together later, nothing, not a blasted thing. I looked at Aunt Kate and saw a smile form that looked somehow triumphant—as if she had just won the lottery and the world was hers for the taking. In a way, it was a wicked little smile of victory.

"Sis, it was time for us to have a woman to woman talk. You know, if she's going to get laid regularly, she may as well know how good she has it. I just gave her the short-course—just enough to let her know there's nothing in the world better than being impaled on a nice, hard cock."

I was aghast. My god! Aunt Kate came right out and told her we were talking about sex and how it related to men. In a way, it was as much about her having sex with men than me having sex with Peter. But it was true, she had gotten her point across—I owed Peter something of an apology.

I looked at my mother's face expecting her to get angry as hell with her. Instead, she looked at her as she knit her brows to form a frown.

"You didn't."