“Look familiar, ladies?” I ask, grinning evilly. “No? Probably because you’ve neglected your body, thus denying yourself the opportunity to learn about it. How can you expect your mate to fuck you right if you’re not doing it yourself? No one knows what stimulates you better than you do.
“So, since I don’t have the plumbing required to show you the ins and outs, so to speak, Erin will help me. First, let’s start with the nipples.”
Again, on cue, Erin palms the underside of her breasts, pinching her erect nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. Shocked murmurs resound around the room, which she answers by pinching her swollen buds and grinning.
“Your nipples are the most obvious pleasure points not residing in the female genitalia. However, they are commonly neglected. Who likes their nipples stimulated?”
No one answers at first, but a hand eventually goes up. Lacey Rose, rocker wife and former sex kitten. Several more follow. I make it a point not to look in Ally’s direction. Knowing that about her, knowing I could bring her to orgasm just by teasing her strawberry nipples, would drive me insane. Ignorance is bliss. At least in my case, ignorance is necessary.
I focus my attention back on Erin who smiles up at me. “Ok, good. Now, who likes to play with their nipples when they’re alone?”
Fewer hands this time, but a couple women actually fess up.
“Excellent. Our friend, Erin, is going to demonstrate all the ways you can get off just by nipple stimulation alone. Erin?”
The young, busty brunette begins to pinch and knead her tan-tipped nipples, rolling them with her skilled fingers. She throws her head back in a moan and bites her bottom lip with practiced seduction. Then she brings her fingers up to her mouth, licking the digits before returning them to her swollen breasts. Even with her feet in the stirrups, she tries to close her legs in hopes of creating friction to her neglected pussy. I watch intently, fascinated by the way her sensitive pink flesh quivers with need. Erin looks back at me, her eyes begging me to touch her and put her out of her misery.
Aside from the creak of their chairs from squirming, everyone is silent as they watch Erin stroke and caress herself. A few even unconsciously clutch their own chests, starving to be touched.
Just as Erin is on the brink of bringing herself to orgasm, I gently tap the inside of her thigh, letting my hand linger there. She places her hands to rest at her sides, perfectly poised, save for her ragged breaths. “Very good. Now what can you tell me about what Erin just showed us?”
After a beat, a hand goes up. Lorinda Cosgrove, the dark haired wallflower that is slowly blooming into an exotic Tiger lily. “Um, when she pinched them…she moaned loudly?”
“Good, Mrs. Cosgrove. What else?”
Lacey speaks up. “And when she licked her fingers and wet her nipples, her back arched.”
“Rolling them between her fingers made her knees shake,” says another housewife.
“All great observations. What else?”
“When she watched you watching her, it made her hotter. She wanted you to touch her. You could see it in her eyes.”
I freeze, forcing myself not to look in the direction of the voice. I was so close. So close to getting through this without actually thinking about it. So close to not feeling like I was doing something wrong. But now that unwarranted guilt is creeping back, filling my head with illusions of morality. Making me think twice about my next move.
“Uh, that was…” I stammer. Shit. Focus, Drake. Business before bullshit.“So…right. Moving on. Next, Erin will demonstrate some of the more known erogenous zones, starting with the clitoris. Watch closely; watch the movements of her fingers. Note which areas are the most sensitive.”
Without my prompt, Erin lets her hands travel down past her belly and between her thighs. First, she parts her sex, giving the women an in-depth view of her most intimate area. Then, with her other hand, she strokes her clit, moaning out her pleasure before applying more pressure.
My hand still on the inside of her thigh, I part Erin’s legs wider, letting the women see every tight, wet part of her. “I get that most of you have had children and are not as youthful as Erin,” I say over her fevered mewling. “But this is the type of pussy you all should aspire to have. Your job is not just to birth children and run a household. You are required to stay freshly waxed and groomed at all times. Your pussy should be pink and soft. If it’s not, there are procedures to get it that way again. Thisis what your husbands want to see when you open your legs. No one wants to fuck Chewbacca. Groom your pussy as if you’re Sharon Stone’s crotch-shot stunt double.”
Erin resumes massaging her clit, tracing circles around that swollen, throbbing button. Then she switches it up with rapid side-to-side movements before lightly slapping the emblazoned flesh, crying out with her climax. She looks up at me again with those needy eyes, shaking with the aftershocks of orgasm. I know what she was thinking about when she touched herself. I know she wishes it were my hands stimulating her silken skin.
I divert my eyes, acting as if I am engrossed in her quivering sex. “Clitoral stimulation can provide one of the most powerful orgasms you’ll ever feel. And for many women, that’s the only climax they’ve ever received. But there’s one type of orgasm that, unfortunately, very few women have had the pleasure of experiencing. Of course, I am referring to the G-Spot orgasm. Now, ladies…it’s not the Lost City of Atlantis. There’s no special code you need to crack this particular nut. Just patience and practice. And if you can find it, you’ll be able to lead your lover to it.”
I give Erin’s leg a tap and she complies with my unspoken command, moving a hand just a few centimeters lower and dipping just the tip of her finger inside her pussy. She rubs the dripping wet digit on her swollen clit before easing it inside her again, this time sinking in to the knuckle. She gasps at the intrusion, letting her muscles contract around her slender finger before easing it out a bit. Then she plunges back in, creating a slow, sinful rhythm.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Slow and deep,” I croon, massaging her thigh. “Add another finger. Fill yourself.”
Erin does as I command, picking up speed with the addition of the second finger. I can hear the sucking sounds of her tightness, begging for more.
“Now curl your fingers up, baby. You feel that? You feel how it’s throbbing for you? Begging for you? Milk it, baby. Milk that orgasm and come all over your fingers for me.”
With a strangled cry, Erin lets go, and a rush of sweet nectar flows from her contracting pussy. Still massaging her thigh, I coax her down from her erotic high, whispering reassuring words of praise. When I look back at the crowd, every eye is glazed and unblinking, and every face is flushed scarlet.
“I understand that it may be difficult to vocalize what we’ve just seen, so we’ll be cutting today’s class short. You’re all dismissed to your rooms, where a special gift from our friends at Lelo.com awaits you. I want you to explore your own pleasure points. Find out what techniques stimulate you the most. And while you do this, utilize the full-length mirrors stationed in your suites. Watch yourself get off. See what hesees when he’s pleasuring you.”
Without little persuasion, the ladies hastily file out of the room, all silently pondering their homework assignment. Once we’re alone, I turn to Erin, my expression burning with intensity.
“My house. Now.”
“WHAT THE FUCK was that?”
I pace the floor, trying to reel in my temper. Erin sits cross-legged on my sofa, only sheathed in her robe.
“What was what?”
“Don’t play stupid, Erin. You know what you were doing.”
She smiles, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”