Lark

Even when I could very well have done the treatments myself, I let Nora continue. It became a habit, and as I sensed, felt, things begin to change, I savored the incongruity all the more. One morning, after feeling stirrings for days, near the end of the treatment my penis twitched. Repeatedly. I suppressed my smirk as I watched Nora for a reaction. There was none. During the next ointment application I was certain that, though she said nothing, Nora must have noticed how it rolled to the side and grew.

I was thrilled - I could tell my balls were coming back to life - and I was mightily amused, intrigued, wondering how Nora would handle it when my cock kept growing. Would she say something? Would she touch it? Would she insist that I take over the treatments? What a delightful conundrum.

Nora said nothing, though, just kept at her job, even when on the fourth treatment of that day my cock filled, lifted off my abdomen and bobbed in sync with her rubs. By the next day it erected every time, and on the last one, right before bed, it was all I could do to suppress my moans as her testicular ministrations made me distend and throb. And drip. Still Nora said nothing, though she did give me a very delightful kiss on the cheek - sweeter than usual, I thought - as she bid me goodnight.

The next day proved an impossible struggle. I awoke with morning wood for the first time since the attack, and was hard again even before she started that morning's treatment. She arrived wearing even shorter shorts than before, and, though summer was approaching and fewer clothes were the norm, it seemed she was purposely wearing a skimpier, more enticing outfit. It made my ogling all the more delicious.

Once she started the massage portion of the treatment, with every coddle of each testicle I ached to take her hand and put it on my erection. To move it up and down. I was ecstatic that my balls were working again, but now the situation was eerily reminiscent of before, when she would edge me over and over without the possibility of release.

When Nora was almost done I confirmed what I'd first sensed the day before. The same exotic, erotic, musky scent that I had smelled that night when my head was between her thighs, filled the room. Nora was aroused.

She didn't let on. When she finished and wiped her hands with a tissue, I was nearly crazy, flushed, panting, hands twitching. I was hopelessly conflicted between grabbing her hands and putting them on me, or jerking off myself. Hopelessly befuddled, I closed my eyes and lay back, opting for waiting until she left to confirm that I could, in fact, function once more.

My eyes popped open and I winced and inhaled sharply when her fingers wrapped round my erection. Thinking she'd hurt me, she whispered, "Oh no, God, I'm so sorry, I..." as her hands sprung away. I broke free of my internal fetters, grabbed her hands and put them back. "Oh, please, Nora. It's wonderful."

After just a few strokes I knew that I was exhibiting all my tells, my toes curling, my back arching, my scrotum tightening and clamping my balls tight to my abdomen. I heard myself making those "cute, gaspy little sounds" once again. As the fluid was squeezed out of my prostate, seminal vesicles, and rejuvenated testes I felt it gathering in my urethra and inexorably surging upward. Every cell of my penis was scalded as each nerve fired continually until overtaxed, and I prayed that she wouldn't stop.

She didn't. One hand cupped my balls and gently caressed them as the other rapidly stroked my shaft. Perfectly. Every muscle tensed, locking my body in an arch and I jerked and gasped as the first ribbon of fluid was ejected with such force that it landed on my neck. Nora exclaimed, "Oh, yes!" as she kept it up, pumping me hard and fast, drawing forth rope after rope of steaming semen.

When I was done, when her strokes just made my penis distend and throb but no more semen oozed out, Nora stopped, correctly interpreting my winces as indication of hypersensitivity. I'd painted a broken stripe of cum from my neck to my navel and she used three tissues to blot it up before lying beside me, head on my shoulder, holding me as my panting abated.

She kept her head down as I leaned over slowly and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then on the cheek. On the neck. I realized her hand on my chest was trembling as much as mine as I raised her chin. I kissed the small tears from her cheeks and then our mouths were together. All by themselves my fingers feathered her cheeks and she sighed into my mouth. When they fluttered down her neck to her chest, to her breasts, her hands alit on mine. And pulled them to her, moving them, circling my palms over her nipples, which hardened to little thimbles as I thrummed them. Satisfied with my handiwork, her hands left mine and began unbuttoning her blouse, unhooking her bra, and slipping them off her shoulders.

She moaned softly as my tongue circled her areola, one then the other, and she pulled my head to her, sighed, and arched her back when I began sucking, gently suckling. When I licked my way back up her chest and we resumed kissing my hands devoured her. Cheeks, neck, shoulders, back, chest, breasts, belly. She stretched her arms over her head and arched to me when her concave stomach allowed my hand to pass under the waist of her shorts, inside her panties. I played in her curls, wanting to arouse her thoroughly, slowly, until she pushed my wrist, forcing my fingers lower. Into her vulva. She was drenched. I slid to and fro in her groove, trying to stay slow, to be a considerate lover, until she whimpered, "Please...hurry."

She came almost instantly when I first touched her clitoris. It was a small, lovely orgasm, accompanied by mild shakes and soft sighs. The next ones, after I'd removed her shorts and panties and my head slid between her thighs, were sweeter than sweet, hotter than hot, better than best.

I lay beside her on the bed, holding her, kissing her, loving her as she recovered.

"I want to try to do it," she whispered as she lay on her back and pulled me to her.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I was certainly up for the idea. She nodded.

When I whispered "Maybe you should be on top, in control?" she pushed me back and mounted me, reached down, found me and slid the head of my penis up and down in her slit, spreading her copious lubrication. I felt the tip of my head part her petals, but she held herself back, trembling, hovering over me.

She was instantly weeping after she collapsed to my side, snuffling, "Oh God, Chad, I'm so sorry. I just can't. It's too awful, too much. It brings it all back. God damn it!"

I held her, stroked her, coddled her. "It's OK, Nora. Don't worry. We don't have to do anything." Her tears were hot on my chest. When her breathing became more regular she said, "Chad, you are so kind, so understanding. But the feel of your penis brought it all back, that horrible day, when those boys were so awful. I'm so, so sorry. I really want to, but..."

"Shush. Don't even think about it. This, holding each other, is wonderful, all I need. We can make love to each other as we just did. It's fine. It's perfect." As we fell silent I thought about how I could encourage her to see someone, to get help, to work through this.

She read my mind. "I really need to get over this. Maybe I'll make an appointment with Dr. Stapleton..."

My silence conveyed my assent and we lay in each other's arms.

She started. "Wait, I'm being stupid. B.F. Skinner just whispered to me. From the grave, which is a little creepy. Chad, are you willing to try an experiment?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"I'm going to train myself, just like I did Raddy."

"And me," I added cleverly.

"Shut up and lie down on your back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Nora mounted me, opened her lower lips and placed the shaft of my penis between them. It felt marvelous when she started glissading her hot wet lips up and down my length. I knew she was rubbing her clitoris on me and her breathing soon became irregular and shallow.

"Oh, that's nice. I like this," I offered, my hands helpfully supporting her breasts.

"This is...my...ah... reward, silly. I...need to...associate...your cock...with...pleasure."

Nora slumped down onto me, gasping and shaking. I helpfully supported her buttocks. Once she recovered she raised up, took my tool and moved it to her entrance. She held herself there, motionless, for maybe ten seconds, then placed my penis along my stomach and resumed sliding her slit up and down its length. As she again got close, she put me in place and froze once more. For longer. Followed by more sliding. The third time she positioned me at her entrance I felt my tip part the entrance to her vagina ever so slightly, if for only a second. More sliding, another orgasm, and my whole tip was inside, for just a bit longer.

Nora proved an ace at operant conditioning.

- - - - -

"I have to say that, though it was very weird, it did work. I guess."

"Well, she is bigger than any guy here, and that tuxedo did look good on her."

"But to be the 'Best Man' at wedding? A woman? That's pretty unusual."

I stealthily slunk away so my parents' friends wouldn't see me. I hadn't been purposely eavesdropping, but was in earshot, just outside the tent at the bar getting a refill of the Beringer pinot grigio that Nora likes. Our wedding reception was in full swing, it was a perfect late September afternoon in White Plains, and Nora was inundated by her family's friends telling her how wonderful the service had been and wishing her well. She really needed sustenance, and, anyway, what's a husband good for if not fetching drinks? Well, maybe also for ripping her clothes off, throwing her down, and fucking her silly just as she'd wanted, three hours before the ceremony.

I had to admit that it was a trifle unusual that I chose a woman for my best man, but Janice, she goes by JT now, and I had become great friends over the past months. After the incident in the cafeteria, when the four idiots shot rubber bands at Nora and me, and our heart-to-heart talk in my room, JT appointed herself my bodyguard. While I knew I didn't need one - I'd made my point with the lout who pushed Nora - she simply hung around me all the time. Rather than an annoyance, though, she proved wonderful company. JT has an amazing, bawdy, sense of humor - I'm a little leery of what she'll say in her best man's toast later - knows a million great jokes, and when we discovered that we both played tennis, we had some very competitive games. We bonded.

Dave, my best college friend, was a little put out that I didn't choose him as best man, but, like everyone else, he had basically abandoned me when the scandal broke. I maybe should have been a little more forgiving - my own mother had also believed the worst - but he still was a groomsman, along with my cousin Eric, and we're tight again. Nora wasn't especially thrilled when JT, performing one of her best man duties, had arranged my bachelor party to be strip club hopping, but it was bonding for the four of us. I think JT did the most ogling.

Nora also wasn't initially sanguine about postponing our honeymoon, but she is very happy that I took the job with the computer security start-up in Denver, where she just began grad school. It pays better than the job with Western Tech, and, given my stock options, the growth potential is awesome. Besides, she now agrees that Hawaii in January will be great, even more appreciated after a few months of winter in the Rockies. And we will be spending tonight at Niagara Falls - it's where Nora's parents had their honeymoon, and it's their treat - where Nora might tease me, deny me, ruin me, and then fuck me till we're both giddy. Unless she wants to be dominated again. Either way I'll be thrilled. It's turned out to be quite a lark.

Author's statement: Thank you for reading my story and this brief appendage.

Having been blessed with enough prosperity to read freely and broadly, we have a responsibility to educate ourselves about our history and our natures. With privilege comes obligation. I invite all of you to explore Mary Daly's Gyn/Ecology, which can be found in most university, and many public, libraries. Even a brief examination of the table of contents will give some idea of the long, gruesome, and little-known history of the subjugation of women.

While the table of contents should be required reading for all men, it is especially important for young women. Learning the extent and history of your gender's suppression will first anger, then empower you. It can be transformative, and having strong women throughout our world is crucial now, especially in light of some trends in society today. Claiming your innate right to enjoy sex is essential. However, liking sex does NOT make you a cum-slut, and does not require you to be subservient. Many men - all those worth having - will be attracted to, and want to share their lives with, women who respect themselves. By valuing yourself you will be a magnet for them.

Certainly, you should feel free to exercise your absolute right to have sex how and with whom you want, but you do not have to demean yourself, change yourself, remove your pubic hair, get breast implants, or submit to societal whims and pressures, especially those imposed by the same clueless men who blindly benefit from them.

Most important, you do not need a man to make you whole. As Gaga sings, you were born that way. Take yourself seriously and please do not fritter away the hard-won societal progress your mothers and older sisters earned at such great cost.

You go, ladies.

VC