Shy

The book had a long chapter on kissing, not only how to, but when to, why to and what it can mean. My plan was to start out slowly and build, like the book said, but she wouldn't let me. The moment I put my lips against hers she climbed on me forcing her leg between mine, wrapping her arms tightly around me and sucking on my lips with a hunger that shocked me; it wasn't so much the kissing that shocked me as her aggression. I planned to be in control, this was supposed to be about her, my plan was to repair the damage I had done in our previous sessions together — entirely self sessions, the book had told me. Tonight, my plan was to give her all the sexual pleasure. So I pushed her off me, onto her back. But that scared her, I could see it in her eyes so I leaned forward, kissed her gently and said, "I want to kiss you, Beth, OK?"

"Oh, ya, Pete, sure," she said, pulling me into her.

But I pushed her away again, "Just lie there for awhile, will you. I don't want you to kiss me, I want to kiss you. OK? You can kiss me later if you want."

She straighten out on the bed, put her arms by her side — she seemed to be readying herself, "Sure, Pete, sorry." She looked like she was going to cry.

So I did as the book directed, I lightly lay against her and softly kiss her, moving all around her mouth, which she opened, then I bit lightly on her lips, then pressed my tongue at the corners and then into her mouth. That brought a moan from her and she turned to move into me but I pushed at her hip and she lay down again and that's when I brought my hand up to her face, to gently caress her cheek and then I pulled away, rested my head on her chest and watched my hand explore her body.

She has a big chest, a huge chest, like I've said. I expected it to be soft and fatty but it wasn't, under the bra it seemed more like muscle, firm, even hard. But her belly was certainly soft. She's a little plump, not too plump but plump and even through her blouse I could feel her stomach quivering as my hand went slowly downwards towards her belt.

It was when I touched the belt that it happened. She had been moaning, a really lovely moan deep from within her throat, and it was getting louder when all of a sudden she rose up on her side, dropping my head from her chest and she grabbed my hand and forced it between her legs and bucked at it, really hard, almost frantically and her moans got even louder until they died in her throat and all I could hear was her deep breathing.

She lay still for a moment, her head resting on the bed, her eyes closed. Then they opened, "Oh, Pete." She was about to pull into me but I didn't let her, instead I pushed at her hip again to get her on her back and then I leaned in, placing my hand on her breast and I kissed her. "I want to take your clothes off."

She struggled to sit up. She had her fingers on her top button when she said, "Oh, sure, Pete ..."

But I pushed her down again, "I," I emphasized 'I', "I want to take your clothes off," that's the way the book said to do it, and I did, slowly, button after button until her shirt was undone and I let her lean forward so I could take it off. I was at her belt now, undoing it, and then the button and the zipper and she lifted her bottom so I could slide her pants down, but they got caught on her ankles so I had to get out of the bed to pull them off.

I looked down at her before I got back onto the bed. I noticed she was looking at me with that look of hers but I noticed something else, too. I noticed that she didn't look anything like the models in the Victoria's Secret catalogue I have in my drawer. Her underwear wasn't delicate and colourful and tiny and sexy. Hers looked like white armour, tight and tough and old and greying. It wasn't what I expected, it wasn't what I had dreamed about but I lay down beside and touched it anyway, like the book said.

I leaned against her, kissing her like I did before and let my fingers travel lightly over her bra. But only for a minute because while I liked the kissing and I liked her little moans and I liked that her mouth was open and her tongue was touching mine, and that she was getting her spit on my lips, I didn't like the feel of her bra. It was like dragging my fingers over indoor-outdoor carpeting so with one hand I reached behind her to undo it. But I couldn't, I didn't know how it was fastened, and I guess she knew it because she sat up and put her hands behind her back but I stopped her, I wanted to do it, so I put both my arms around her and took hold of the strap but even then I couldn't figure it out, so I sat up and she leaned forward so I could see what I was doing, so I could see the long row of little clasps on the wide strap and I pushed the two sides together and the claps were free. When she lay down, I took the bra away and the first breasts I have ever seen lay magnificently on her stomach like flesh-coloured pillows, big and soft with big round red circles on the end and nipples that were long and stiff. They were amazing. I curled on the bed with my head on her soft stomach and I took a nipple in my mouth and I sucked and I don't think I've ever felt so safe.

I don't know how long I sucked on it, I seemed to be on another planet, but maybe it was too long because after a while she changed breasts which made me think there might be a time limit on this so I was more careful now, I sucked only for a minute or so on this nipple and then I turned on her stomach and brought my hand to her panties.

I had dreamed about this moment ... a lot, I had dreamed that I would trace my fingers all over the surface of the delicate panty, enticing her, feeling her squirm under my fingers, then I would let my fingers sneak under the sexy fabric to touch her. But I couldn't. When I tried, the elastic was so tough and tight against her leg it seemed to bite into it and I couldn't go under so I did what I did with her pants. I got up and stood at the foot of the bed and stripped them off and just like before, I noticed the look on her face, then I noticed the thick jungle of hair between her legs, a jungle far thicker than my own and that surprised me, but the hair under her arms had surprised me, too.

"What's the matter?" Her look was gone, she looked really frightened now.

"There's just so much hair," I said, without thinking.

She quickly tucked her legs under her and sat up, "I can get rid of it, Pete." She looked almost terrified and I felt like it was me who scared her so I sat down beside her and eased her down as I lay against her and when I kissed her I let my fingers roam, knowing my destination and I was there in a few minutes, slipping through the dense patch of coarse brown hair into her wet and hot opening.

She stiffened when I touched her, but just for a second, then she opened her legs and I found my bearings. The book told me where it was and what it would feel like and it told me to be very gently and to vary the caress, slow and fast but always gently and if done right the response would be quick. And it was — and painful, I thought she was going to crush me and blow out my ear drum, and I thought I would hurt her, as she violently fucked at my fingers but it was all over in a minute, everything but the kissing: she had me pinned to the bed and was brutalizing my mouth with her lips. It took all my strength to push her away. And then I almost ran from the room.

She didn't come after me, instead, I heard the bath begin to fill so I had a beer and waited for it to stop and when it did I went down to the bedroom but the bathroom door was open and she sitting in the water, bent so low her breasts were submerged. She was crying.

I don't know why I did it. I guess it was an impulse I just gave in to. I went into the bedroom, took off my clothes then walked into the bathroom and stepped into the tub, and sat down facing her. She was surprised, but she didn't look at me, so I took her face in my hands and I kissed her, tenderly. I didn't want her to cry.

She was gentle with me now, she let me kiss her, let me touch and when I put my fingers between her legs I just brushed them lightly, reassuringly against her outer lips she smiled at me and I smiled at her. Something had happened between us, she knew it and I knew it.

We had changed, both of us had changed, we were calmer now, more ready to take our time with each other, which we did, making supper together, eating and talking and later on the couch. She had on her white negligee and was lying with her head on my lap. I had pulled the negligee up to her chin so I could watch my fingers caress her breasts and belly and I could look at her thick brown bush which I now thought perfectly suited her.

I was thinking about how great she'd look in some of the stuff out of my Victoria's Secret catelogue when she started in. She told me that even before she had met me she had done a lot of reading about shyness and she had done a lot more since. She turned on her side and strained to look up at me. There was things I could do to help me deal with my shyness, she said, exercises I could experiment with to see what worked best for me. She had a number of them and wanted me to try them. What she proposed was that she would give me one exercise a week to work on and we would discuss it on Fridays and would either keep on with it or try a new one, depending on how effective I thought it was.

I have been shy all my life and have just accepted it as who I am. I didn't know I wanted to change but I couldn't see any harm in trying a few exercises, whatever they were, so I agreed and that's when she told me that she was going to try to change something about herself, too. She pinched the fat on her belly and said that she had lost six pounds in the past five weeks and she was going to try to lose another 15, so while I was working on my shyness she would be working on her fat.

Frankly, I thought it was a good idea, she needed to lose a little weight and, clever man that I am, I gave her an incentive. "Do we have a Victoria's Secret store here?" I asked.

She thought for a moment, "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Do we have any stores that sells that kind of stuff?"

"Sure," she said, looking up at me again, curious. "Every mall has one."

"I think you'd look beautiful in some of those things and I'm going to buy you some. Tomorrow."

"Ah, no, Pete," she turned and pushed her face into my stomach so I could barely hear her, "I'm too fat for that stuff now. Maybe later, when I've lost some weight."

But I had made up my mind, "We're going tomorrow, Beth."

But it wasn't that easy. She would only agree to go into the store if I would agree to go in with her, to pick out what I liked. So, for me, the question boiled down to this: was my desire to see her in sexy underwear stronger than my fear of entering the store. I didn't have to think about it, I knew my fear would conquer lust.

But in the end we decided to go and not because of the underwear: it was her idea — this was going to be the first exercise in dealing with my shyness.

I wanted a drink before I went in and I suggested it but she wouldn't hear of it: "Do you want to reach for alcohol every time you have to do something you don't want to do?"

I would have bailed out if she hadn't been holding my hand so tight and talking me through it. "This is a public store," she said, with a calming voice as we approached the place. "You have every right to go in there and you have every right to see me in the underwear you want."

This wasn't the time to argue with her but I didn't see where I had any such right at all.

"We'll try the bras first," she said, walking by the racks of colours and silks. "I know the panties will fit."

I thought I'd be the only guy in the place and I was and I was hanging onto her hand like a child to his mother and she knew I was scared, she was holding me tight and talking in a calm, soothing voice, trying to make this as easy on me as she could. "There aren't many bras that fit me," she said, sorting through the racks. "I've had this problem most of my life, but they're nice, aren't they, the colours and the fabric. Which do you like, Pete, what colours?"

I didn't say anything, I just stood there fighting my fear.

But she bumped me with her hip and squeezing my hand hard, "Come on, Pete, they're just bras for goodness sake. What colour do you like?"

I took a deep breath, "The yellow."

But there was nothing there that would fit her so she pulled me over to the panties. "Yellow?" She said as she sorted through to her size.

My mouth was so dry I didn't think I could talk, "And red and black ... and white."

She looked up at me, surprised, "Really? They're pretty expensive."

I nodded, they could have been a thousand bucks each and I would have paid for them, as I did these, with no eye contact with the attractive clerk.

She had her arm around me when we left the store and she was pulling me into her, "You were great, Pete, it wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I learned something," I said, feeling a relief flood through me.

"Good, that's great, that's what these exercises are for. What?"

"I learned that my lust is greater than my fear. I have a raging hard-on right now. And I need a drink. Shop if you want, but I'm going in here," I said, heading to the bar.

But she came too, and sat close beside me in the booth. The place was all but empty and the waitress quickly served us and left. "Are you all right?"

I took a deep drink of my beer, "Ya. I've got a Victoria's Secret catelogue at home, but the real thing is a whole lot hotter."

"Are you hot?"

"God, that stuff is unbelievable, I can't wait to see you in it?"

Then she did something that absolutely shocked me, she was on my left side and she turned into me bringing her left hand down to my pants and before I understood what she was doing, she unzipped me and was digging in to get past my underwear.

I grabbed her wrist, quickly looking around, "What are you doing?"

"I don't want you to wait, Pete and no one's looking," and she pushed me back with her right arm and pumped me the few times it took and she caught me in a cocktail napkin and quickly zipped me up.

"What's the big deal?" she said, as we rode the bus. "You needed it and no one was looking." Then she bumped into me playfully, "I'd expect you to do the same thing for me."

I wasn't any where near as nervous when we walked into this store, at least until we walked through all the dresses and blouses and were in the underwear section. But there, we were at it again, her hand in mine, reassuringly squeezing me, and me with a dry mouth and a stiff erection, answering her questions.

I saw her in the cafeteria on Monday, not out of the corner of my eye but because I searched for her. She didn't move as I headed towards her, and her look didn't change either, the same look she always had when she looked at me. I sat down across from her and began taking the plates off my tray as if I always sat with her for lunch. When I looked up, she said, "Oh, Jeez, Pete, thanks," and I thought she was going to cry.

She kept after me with the shyness exercises and I kept doing them because a lot of them worked, particularly the first one we discussed when I first sat with her in the cafeteria. When I was growing up I used to play a lot of table tennis with my dad, a lot, we played all the time. Well, just off the cafeteria there's a big table tennis room where employees play at lunch time and after work. I have always wanted to suck up enough courage to go in there. I've always loved the game. At her prodding, today was the day. She almost pushed me through the door, then hung around to make sure I stayed. And I did, watching others play and then someone asked me for a game and with the thrill of the competition I forgot I was shy.

I knew I was going to do it a month before I did. I don't know why I waited, caution, I guess, I wanted to see if there was anything about her I couldn't deal with. But there wasn't, I loved everything about her and she loved me because when I asked her to marry me she jumped into my arms and knocked me to the floor.

She did all the planning, not that there was much: she arranged with the Justice of the Peace for the time and place and she arranged for the two witnesses.

We went out to dinner after the ceremony, the four of us. Ann and Anita, I learned, were a couple and they were fun, flirting with each other as they ate and drank and celebrated with us. They were to stay with us on an airbed Beth had bought for the occasion.

We all had lots to drink when we stumbled into my apartment but not quite enough, so I poured the drinks while everyone got comfortable, our two visitors on the couch with Beth on the floor where I soon joined her.

It was Anita who brought it up. Beth had worn a blazer over a sheer blouse but the blazer was off now and you could easily see her large yellow bra. Anita made her comment directly to Ann, "God, I can see what you mean, they're fabulous."

Ann laughed and smiled at Beth. "I can't tell you how I miss those guys." And I sat stunned as Beth smiled back, sticking out her chest and wiggling her breasts seductively. Then Ann added, "You're a lucky guy, Pete."

I'd had a few drinks, we all had, so I thought I'd got it wrong but Anita offered perfect clarity when she said, holding her hands over her tiny breasts, "And to think these have to replace those."

That's when I said, "What are we talking about here?"

Ann started to answer but Beth stopped her, turning to me and saying, matter-of-factly, "Ann and I lived together for two years when we were going to college. Ann's a lesbian, I'm not but we did have a bit of a relationship for awhile."

I don't know what shocked me more, "What do you mean a bit of a relationship and when did you go to college?" Who had I married, for God's sake?

"Four years ago, I got two years in sociology before I dropped out because of money. And the relationship?" She shrugged, apparently thinking there was no issue here, "We were roommates, we just fooled around a bit."

And the matter had been dealt with, or so Anita thought because she said, with a giggle, "Give us a peek, Beth."

Beth turned to me, she was clearly excited, "Should I?"

"Come on, Pete," Ann wasn't looking at me, she was pulling off her own sweater.

Beth was beaming with excitement, I didn't know if was from flattery or the booze but she really wanted her shirt off and God knows the two girls wanted that, too and now, so did I. The whole thing, while shocking, was unbelievably erotic, I mean, two lesbians wanting your wife's tits?

And then it just sort of happened. I didn't say anything, didn't know what to say and there was a lot of stuff in the air that I didn't want to stop so I just got up and sat in the chair and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and that was signal enough.

The two lesbians were almost fighting over who would undo her buttons. Ann was there first but Anita almost pulled her away and was at them and when she was finished Ann whipped off Beth's blouse with the flourish of a matador.

I guess it was then that it struck me. Up until now, sex had been nervous and personal and serious to me, I didn't know any other way. Not now. These girls were having fun: they were hooting and hollering and the two lesbians were positively wrestling with each other to get at Beth's bra. And Beth? She was lying back on her arms eagerly waiting the winner.

And then the frenzy started in earnest. Anita, always the fastest, had her clothes off first and she was pulling at Beth's pantyhose. Ann's ass, just two feet from my face, blocked my view but I'm sure she was struggling with Beth's skirt because seconds later it was off, too and that's when Beth stood up and took the few paces over to me, stopping in front of me dressed only in her powered blue panties, almost loose on her now that she had lost the ten pounds — she looked unbelievable sexy. "Take off your clothes, Pete. When they're finished, we'll have sex while they have sex. OK?"