Nice Couples Do

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  “You never wore stockings like that before,” Paul said hoarsely.

  “I never did a lot of things before,” Tracy said. The line sounded corny, but Paul didn’t seem to mind. He just continued to stare.

  After a moment, Tracy reached down and unhooked the bra. She let it fall open, but her breasts remained in the cups. She watched Paul’s hands as he idly ran his fingers over the rough fabric on the sofa. It was as though his fingers craved sensation, any sensation.

  Slowly, Tracy’s fingers danced up and down between her breasts until finally her thumb and index finger grasped one cup of her bra. She saw that Paul was holding his breath. She took a long time to pull the cup to the side and expose her breast.

  Her nipples were hard and swollen. She fondled her breast and gently pinched and pulled at the nipple. Paul’s eyes never left her fingers. It was as if he had never seen her before.

  Tracy rested her head against the back of the chair as she duplicated her motions with her other hand on her other breast.

  She leaned forward and pulled the bra off. Paul shifted his position and Tracy watched the small movement as he adjusted his slacks to a more comfortable position.

  With one hand, she continued to stroke her breast while she rested the other on her knee. She slowed the motion on her breast and ran her fingers up the inside of her thigh, just to the top of her stocking. Then she stroked back down to her knee again.

  Paul’s eyes flicked back and forth from the hand on her thigh to the one on her breast.

  “More?” Tracy asked softly. She knew the answer but wanted affirmation from Paul.

  He could only nod.

  Tracy stood up. After two pregnancies, she had lost pride in her breasts. They sagged more than she wished, but now, watching Paul’s face, she raised her elbows and looked down. She could see her large nipples, dark brown and more swollen than she could ever remember.

  She looked back at Paul. Whatever complaint she had with her reflection in her mirror, she had no complaint with her reflection in her husband’s eyes.

  Her skirt had buttons from the top of the slit to the waist. One by one, she opened the buttons until only her hands kept the skirt wrapped around her waist.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Please,” Paul said.

  She gently let the skirt fall to the floor. She had bought a pair of black lace panties, which covered the black garter belt that held up her stockings.

  Tracy could see the big bulge in the front of Paul’s slacks. She loved the idea that she had caused it without ever touching him.

  She inserted her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, but Paul said breathlessly, “Not yet.”

  He stood up and took out his wallet. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and sat back down. He reached out and rubbed the bill up the inside of Tracy’s thigh. Then he tucked it into the top of one stocking.

  She was now a paid stripper, a pro. The thought made her even wetter, hungrier for Paul. But a stripper should give a complete show. Agonizingly slowly, she again hooked her thumbs inside the waistband of her panties and pulled them down an inch at a time.

  It took several long minutes for her pants to join her blouse, skirt, and bra on the floor at her feet.

  When she started to unhook the garters from the stockings, Paul whispered, “Leave them on. I want to make love to you that way.”

  Paul stood up and put one arm around Tracy’s shoulders. His other hand was on her breast, squeezing her nipple. “Come upstairs,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  They walked up to the bedroom and Tracy sat on the edge of the bed. Dressed only in the garter belt, stockings, and shoes, she leaned back on her elbows while Paul undressed. Her curly dark pubic hair showed clearly below the garter belt.

  As Paul pulled down his slacks and underpants, Tracy saw that his cock was enormous.

  Paul stood in front of her, naked. He reached down and grasped his penis. “See what you did?” he said hoarsely. “You made me want you.”

  “And I want you,” Tracy said, spreading her thighs.

  Paul sat down on the bed next to her as she lay back. He leaned down and put his mouth around her nipple as he slid his hand between her legs.

  Tracy closed her eyes. Somehow, it feels like I’m making love to a stranger, someone who paid me to strip and has now bought me for the evening. The feeling of this stranger’s fingers stroking the wet flesh between her legs made her so hot.

  Tracy grasped her husband’s throbbing penis. She put the tip against her wet vagina and pressed upward with her hips. Without any hesitation, he quickly rolled her over on top of him and pressed her into a sitting position. With one motion, he lifted her and set her down on his immense penis.

  She kicked off her shoes and pressed her stockinged legs against his sides. She used Paul’s flanks to stroke the insides of her thighs through the silky nylon.

  She alternately lifted her hips and then ground them against Paul as he thrust upward into her over and over. His fingers dug into the flesh at her waist and he pressed her more tightly onto his cock.

  “It’s so good,” she cried. “You feel so good inside of me.”

  He could feel her lacy garter belt under his fingers. “God, I’m going to come deep inside of you,” he screamed, and he poured his semen inside of her.

  With a sigh, she collapsed on top of him and wrapped her arms around his heaving chest. She placed her cheek against his nipples and listened as his heart pounded.

  They slept pressed tightly together. When they woke the next morning, Tracy remembered that she still had her stockings and garter belt on. As she started to get up to remove them, Paul said simply, “Not yet, my little stripper.”

  They didn’t get up for another hour.

  4

  FIRST TIMES

  I’ve discussed some ways to introduce new sexual activities. Now the question becomes “Like what?” I’ve already mentioned a few. Maggie discovered the power of lingerie and Dave and Judy found that control was a key to their excitement. Are there things for everyone? I think so.

  Until recently, it was believed that men and women had different and frequently incompatible sexual needs. Mother told daughter and the media reinforced the myth. As a child, I was told that men have a physical drive that makes them want, indeed need, sex more often than women. A woman must never deny her husband his “marital rights.” If you’re not in the mood, oh well. Make the best of it and pretend to enjoy yourself so you won’t wound his delicate male ego. It may not have ever been spelled out in exactly those words, but the message was clear nonetheless.

  The message in the fifties, when I was a teenager, was that while men do need variation in their sexual encounters, that’s what prostitutes and “other women” are for. Foreplay was not enjoyable in and of itself. It was a means to an end, a way to excite one or both partners so intercourse would not be too odious. Wives were supposed to be vessels, repositories for the seed of their husbands, and content with the missionary position. Many men never saw their wives naked. Lovemaking took place with all the lights off and with the wife’s nightclothes still on. Then the men went out and had fun elsewhere.

  At least men were taught that sex was fun!

  Now, fortunately, it is more commonly understood that women have sexual needs and desires, too. They have erotic fantasies and their own type of wet dreams. They masturbate and have enjoyable orgasms. Women can and should enjoy sex, too, in all its infinite varieties. Sex is to be shared, enjoyed mutually by both partners. Sex is fun for both participants. Hooray for enlightenment!

  It’s all right to want whatever you want and that includes games that are out of the sexual mainstream. Once you accept that what you want is all right, you have to communicate these new ideas with your partner.

  Sexual creativity is a most important ingredient in a long-term, full-time relationship. I used to think that the perfect sexual partner was someone with infinite creativity. I hoped that there was someone ou
t there who could enjoy the same pleasures that I enjoy. I also foolishly thought that he would be able to divine what I wished and do it just right. I never considered how he would know all this; I just knew that, when I found him, he would.

  I was wrong. The perfect partner is one with whom you can communicate. One to whom you can suggest activities that you might like to try. One who can say, “That sounds interesting,” or “I don’t think I’d enjoy that,” with equal equanimity. One who can suggest things to you and will accept your response, whatever it may be.

  A perfect new sexual experience, the first time with someone who really turns you on, is the basis of many sexual fantasies. In the next two stories, you’ll see how two quite different couples reacted to that initial delicious awkwardness. Maybe you’d enjoy marking one of these.

  PEGGY AND GARY’S STORY

  Gary lay stretched out on the bed, a copy of the newspaper propped on his heavy thighs. Contentedly, he turned to the last page and spent several leisurely minutes reading about his high school lacrosse team’s latest victory. Nostalgically, he thought about the days before his waistline thickened and his hair thinned. He remembered the “big game,” in which he had actually played only two minutes but which, over the years, had become his greatest triumph.

  With a dreamy look on his face, he put his newspaper aside and glanced at Peggy, his wife of almost twenty years, as she lay beside him. He smiled at the way she lay, almost prone, with her head on her scrunched pillow. Every few moments, she absently pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. He looked at the cover of the paperback novel she was reading.

  “Why do the covers of all the books you read look the same?”

  Absently, Peggy looked up. “Were you talking to me?” she asked.

  “I was just wondering about the covers on those novels you read. They all look alike.”

  Peggy looked at the cover of her book. It showed the handsome, virile hero bent over the lush body of the heroine. He was shirtless, showing off his rippling chest and shoulder muscles. She wore a gown, cut low enough to leave little of her full breasts to the imagination. Her red hair was spread over her shoulders in deep, thick waves. The lovers gazed into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the rest of the world.

  Peggy looked at the cover illustration and giggled. “I guess they all do look alike.”

  “Why?” When Peggy looked puzzled, Gary continued. “Why do you read the same book over and over? Granted, the characters have different names and the setting is different, but the story is always the same. I’ve always wondered. What’s the real appeal?”

  “Romance, I guess,” Peggy answered after a bit of thought. “I suppose I read them because there’s always romance. My favorite part is when the hero finally makes love to the heroine for the first time. He holds her and kisses her and drives her wild with passion. She usually wants to resist him for some reason, but she finds herself unable to. His expert lovemaking ultimately wins her over.”

  She rolled partway over and propped herself on one elbow. “Like the scene I just read.” She turned back a few pages and handed the book to Gary. “Read from here,” she said, and pointed to a paragraph.

  Five minutes later, Gary handed the book back. Reading that scene had turned him on more than he would have imagined. “I see what you mean. It’s very erotic, like an orgasm in print.”

  He wanted to be the man in the story. He wanted to be able to reduce a woman to a quivering mass of desire. He wondered whether he could do that to Peggy or whether he even dared to try. The idea was too tempting to ignore.

  “We could make love like that,” he said softly.

  Peggy thought about her recent lovemaking with Gary. It was comfortable, but predictable. She would love it if he could behave like one of the heroes of the novels she loved so much. But the whole idea was ridiculous.

  “Real people don’t make love like that,” she said.

  Gary reached over and took the book from Peggy’s hand. Without a word, he put it on his bed table. He turned back to Peggy and ran his fingers over her forehead, then took off her glasses, folded them, and placed them on her bedstand.

  In the story, the hero and the heroine had just married, over the heroine’s objections. “I’m going to make love to you, since this is our wedding night.” That was the first line in the scene and Gary tried to say it as the hero would have.

  He swallowed hard and held his breath. What would Peggy do? After a moment’s hesitation, Peggy pulled her knees up slightly and backed away toward her side of the bed. “But it’s early yet. Maybe you’d prefer a glass of wine. I could get one for you.” Gary’s heart pounded. Peggy had just repeated the heroine’s line.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” Gary continued. He slid out of his side of the bed and took off the top of his pajamas. He stood for a moment, wearing only the pajama pants.

  As Peggy looked at him, she saw the same nice guy she had been sleeping next to for twenty years. He was a bit paunchy and his hairline had receded so far that he was soon going to have to admit that he was bald. She noticed also that he had broad shoulders, long arms, and beautiful hands.

  In another part of her mind, however, he was Bret, the hero of the novel. He was about to ravish the teenage girl he had just forced to marry him. Peggy worried that, as much as she wanted to become Leona, the heroine, she couldn’t become a sweet, beautiful, sexually ignorant girl. Gary would laugh.

  As she looked at his face, though, she saw the languid look that she had always read about, the look that made his eyes say, I want to seduce you.

  “I’m afraid,” she said, as she thought Leona would have.

  Gary climbed back onto the bed. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You will want it as much as I do. Just relax and let me love you.”

  Gary touched Peggy’s face with the tips of his fingers. As his wife gazed at him, he stroked her chin and cheeks. He softly touched her eyelids and she closed her eyes.

  “You really are beautiful,” he said. There was such sincerity in his voice that Peggy didn’t know whether it was Bret talking to Leona or Gary talking to his wife. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to enjoy.

  She felt Gary place tiny kisses on her temple and then his lips wandered over her face. The moment was wonderful, but Peggy felt a hunger to have Gary’s lips on her mouth. She reached for the back of his head to press his mouth against hers.

  “Leona,” he said, “you’re very forward.” He was gently reminding her that, in the scene, Leona had been totally passive, frightened of lovemaking until Bret was actually inside of her. Peggy dropped her hand.

  Gary continued to kiss her face. He enjoyed denying her the kiss she obviously wanted. He kissed her ear and ran the tip of his tongue around the outside. As he heard Peggy purr, he moved to her neck. He placed a line of light kisses down the side of her neck to where her neck met her shoulder. As he nibbled at that tender spot, he felt her reach her body toward him.

  Gently, he reached for the back of her hair and pulled her away. He saw the pleasure on her face as he bent to touch his lips to hers. To his delight, she didn’t open her mouth immediately but kept her lips together as the girl in the story had. He kissed her closed mouth and then ran the tip of his tongue over her lips. Gradually, her lips parted just enough for him to slip his tongue inside.

  It was heavenly. Somehow it was like Bret kissing Leona. Gary enjoyed Peggy’s kiss as he hadn’t in many years. They kissed for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths for the “first time.”

  Gary’s hands kneaded Peggy’s lower back. He cupped her buttocks and pressed her belly against his erection so she could feel the heat of his excitement.

  They separated just enough for him to slide his hand onto her breasts. She stiffened as Leona would have, but he said, “It’s all right, darling, just relax.” Through her nightgown, he kneaded her flesh and rubbed his palm across her swollen nipple. She was trying to react like an innocent, but her body responded l
ike a woman.

  After minutes of just playing with her breast, he said, “Doesn’t that feel good?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said hesitantly, “it feels wonderful.”

  “There are more pleasures,” he said as he continued to play out the scene.

  Peggy opened her eyes and looked at him. She used body language to convey the fright that Leona would have felt in bed with her handsome new husband. She shuddered, then said, “I’m still frightened.”

  “Trust me.”

  Her lips curved in a tiny “I’ll be brave” smile and she closed her eyes.

  Gary pulled his wife’s nightgown off over her head and tossed it on the floor. Then he bent over and touched Peggy’s nipple with his tongue. He felt her pull back, but one arm held her tightly. His lips encircled her breast’s erect peak and he started to suck. When he squeezed her other nipple in a rhythm that matched his sucking, she moaned.

  Hesitantly, Peggy reached up and ran the palms of her hands over the backs of Gary’s shoulders. She felt the length of his body against her and his sucking made her wet with need, but still she continued to control herself and behave as Leona would have.

  Gary stopped squeezing and sucking, slid his hand down her belly, and slipped his fingers between her legs. She couldn’t stop her hips from moving or her back from arching as she reached for him. His hard penis against her thigh told her that he was as excited as she was, but they both were still playing out the scene.

  He played with the soaked flesh between her legs until neither of them could resist any longer. He climbed on top and, with one motion, pressed his hard cock inside. He thrust in and out and watched the pleasure on his wife’s face. Her eyes were tightly shut and her head thrashed from side to side.

  He pounded into her and climaxed with a groan.

  They lay together for a long time as their breathing returned to normal.

  “You know,” Peggy said, her grin lighting her face, “that should have been silly. But it was wonderful, I was Leona and you were Bret. I can’t really explain it.”