Made For Sex

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  “No,” Ronnie said. “I didn’t know. You said was?”

  “I did. The bitch did a number on him. I think she was more interested in my money than in Tim. Anyway, about a month ago, when he seemed to be losing interest, she lost her temper at our dinner table one evening. There were several other couples, their friends and ours, and Clarisse had been drinking. Something snapped, I’ve no idea what. But whatever caused it she read him out and, among other things, told him he was a lousy lover. I think her exact phrasing was that he couldn’t give a nymphomaniac an orgasm.”

  “Oh shit,” Jack said. “He must have been devastated.”

  “He was. Fortunately Tim and I have an honest relationship and we’ve talked at length since then. He doesn’t want anything to do with Clarisse, but he admits that she might have a point about his sexual prowess. He told me that he feels inadequate and awkward as a lover. I told him that good sex takes two and that maybe he and Clarisse just weren’t compatible, but he’s really down on himself. We talked about finding a prostitute to, you know, teach him about women and sex, but he didn’t want anything like that. Too impersonal, too clinical.”

  “Am I starting to see a plan here?” Ronnie asked.

  “I hope so,” TJ said. “I know and trust both of you and I need someone to teach Tim about women. Ronnie?”

  “I’m flattered and I’d like to help. But I won’t do anything without his knowledge,” Ronnie said.

  “Of course not.” He looked from Ronnie to Jack. “If you two agree, I’ll talk to him. I mentioned you recently and he remembers meeting you last summer. As a matter of fact, I think he was impressed, said you were a knockout, as I recall. I don’t know whether that’s the good news or the bad.”

  “I think it would be wonderful for Tim,” Jack said, his charming grin revealing even, white teeth. “Ronnie’s just the right woman to teach a young man about love and sex. She’s terrific.” He squeezed his wife’s hand.

  “So you’re both willing?” TJ said.

  “If Tim wants to, I’m certainly willing,” Ronnie said.

  Later that night, Ronnie and Jack lay in bed, naked, propped up on several pillows. “That’s quite an assignment,” Jack said, “teaching a young man about sex.”

  “I know,” Ronnie said. “It’s a bit daunting.”

  “Nonsense,” Jack said. He tangled his fingers in Ronnie’s hair. “Any man who looks at your full lips will want to kiss you.” He pressed his lips against hers. “He’ll want to use his tongue to play with yours.” He opened her mouth with his tongue and stroked the inside. “He’ll want to touch your face.” He ran the pads of his fingers over Ronnie’s forehead, cheeks, and nose. “And close your eyes with his lips.” He kissed her eyelids.

  “Maybe you should teach him,” Ronnie said. “You do things so well.”

  As his hands made her skin burn everywhere they touched, Jack said, his voice hoarse, “Will you tell me every detail? Will you demonstrate to me everything you taught him?” His breathing was rough as his hands found her wet center.

  “I may not share exactly what we do because that seems very private. But I’ll make up something delicious,” Ronnie said, wrapping her legs around her husband’s waist. “But for right now, just fuck me good.”

  They were both so hot that their mating was frantic, tangling their bodies in sheets and pillows. He pounded into her hard and screamed when he came. Her orgasm wasn’t far behind.

  Tim called Ronnie about a week later. “My dad told me about your conversation,” he said without preamble. “I’m really embarrassed about all this.”

  “I’m a little uncomfortable too, Tim, but I gather that this type of thing is common in Europe. The older woman educating the younger man.”

  Tim’s hollow laugh echoed through the phone. “That doesn’t help and anyway, you’re not that much older.”

  Ronnie laughed. “It doesn’t help me either, but I’d love to spend time with you, if you’d like. We could talk and do whatever you want, nothing more.”

  Ronnie heard Tim take a deep breath. “I think I would.” He paused. “Maybe we could have dinner at that place Dad took you to. Like next Tuesday evening?”

  Ronnie had been dreading a long dinner during which she and Tim would have to make pleasant conversation. It sounded awful. “You know, let’s pass on dinner,” Ronnie suggested. “Let me meet you at your apartment at about eight. We can talk and see what happens from there.”

  “I could pick you up.” Ronnie could hear the hesitancy in his voice.

  “I’d prefer to meet you, if that’s okay.” No long drive with awkward silences.

  “Sure. Ronnie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m terrified and mortified.”

  “Don’t be. We’ll only do what makes both of us comfortable. Okay?”

  “I’ll see you Tuesday.” Tim gave Ronnie directions to his apartment.

  “Okay. I’ll see you at eight o’clock. And Tim, wear those tight, over-washed jeans you were wearing that evening last summer. I remember how good they looked on you.”

  “Yeah,” Tim said, his voice a bit lighter. “Sure. I will.” He hung up.

  Ronnie drove to the apartment complex the following Tuesday and grabbed a heavy camel wool coat from the backseat. She wore a deep red, button front, man-tailored shirt and jeans, with her bare feet stuffed into soft leather loafers. She had on almost no makeup and had pulled her hair into a ponytail. Although she was in her early thirties she looked younger and less threatening. Only her lingerie was intended to tantalize, a dark red demi-bra and matching thong-style panties.

  Her palms sweaty, Ronnie parked her car, found her way to Tim’s apartment, and rang the bell. It took a moment before she heard footsteps.

  “Hi,” Tim said as he opened the door. Ronnie was surprised at how much he had changed in the few months since she had last seen him. Although he had been twenty-three that evening on the boat, he had still had some of the gawky teenaged angles and hollows to his body. No more.

  “You’ve grown up,” Ronnie said as she looked him over slowly and appraisingly, enjoying the way his body now filled out the navy blue knit shirt he wore. His shoulders were wide and his hips narrow. Lord she loved muscular shoulders and she longed to run her palms over his upper arms, feel them around her. That would have to wait, however. Right now Tim’s fists were clenched at his sides and the open ingenuous smile that she knew could warm his ordinary-looking face was hidden beneath his nervousness.

  Tim was terrified. When he and his dad discussed Clarisse’s ugly comments, and Tim had reluctantly admitted that even before that evening he had begun to doubt himself. He’d been a normal teenaged stud, seducing several members of his high school class, then having several longer-term relationships in college. But with Clarisse it had been different. As the months of their relationship passed, it took longer and longer for him to arouse her. He tried to be considerate and give her the time she needed but after prolonged foreplay, once he finally got inside, he came so quickly that Clarisse complained that Tim always left her unsatisfied. The last few times they had slept together, he’d been unable to get an erection at all. “Don’t you have a clue about women?” Clarisse had shrieked late one night. “All you want to do is fuck. Stick it in and to hell with the woman.” She’d laughed at him. “Now you can’t even get it up.” His brain understood what was going on, but his soul had doubts.

  The scene at his father’s dinner table had been a humiliation for Tim and for several weeks he had gone straight home after work and shut himself in his apartment. After almost a month his father had showed up at his door and sat him down for a serious talk.

  At first Tim had been appalled by his dad’s suggestion of hiring a prostitute, but when Ronnie’s name came up, Tim’s interest had been piqued and his body had reacted. Although he’d only met her the one time on the boat, he’d spent many nights fantasizing about her long blond hair and great body. TJ had explained about Jack and Ronnie’s u
nusual relationship, and Tim had agreed to the outlandish plan.

  Now Ronnie was here and Tim was panic-stricken. This was all a terrible mistake. As Tim saw the corners of her mouth turn up, he asked, “What are you smiling at?” Her eyes were roaming all over his body, making his skin prickle. Was she going to make fun of him and of this ridiculous idea?

  “Nothing. It’s just that you’ve matured and I enjoy looking at you.” She would tell him later, in detail, how hunky he’d become. Instinctively Ronnie knew that he wasn’t ready.

  Tim was nice looking, with sandy brown hair and eyes the color of toast. As Tim nervously ran his long, delicate fingers through his hair, Ronnie thought about how those hands would feel on her skin. Nice, she thought, warming to her task. Very nice. And despite his nervousness, he had a sexy way of looking right into her eyes that made Ronnie tingle. “May I come in?” she said, noticing that he had worn the jeans she’d suggested.

  Tim stepped back and let Ronnie brush past him into his apartment. God, he thought, she smells so good. “I’m glad you came.” His face reddened and he looked mortified as he realized his accidental double entendre.

  “You know, Tim,” Ronnie said as Tim shut the door, “we’re going to drive each other crazy if we don’t relax.” She placed a light kiss on his cheek and dropped her coat on a chair.

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been jumpy as a cat all day.” He rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans. “I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

  “It was a wonderful idea and we’ll just talk for a while. Nothing you don’t want. Okay?”

  Tim looked at his shoes, then looked at Ronnie. God, she was so sexy. He nodded.

  Suddenly Ronnie was completely comfortable. Tim was a genuinely nice human being. “There’s nothing to be jumpy about. Have you got anything to drink? I think we could both use one.”

  “I’ve got a bottle of champagne.”

  “Great. Got any orange juice? We could make mimosas.”

  “Sure. Good idea. The OJ’s in the fridge.”

  “Any brandy?”

  “There might be a bottle in the closet to the right. Why?”

  “To make the perfect mimosa,” Ronnie said, crossing to the tiny kitchen, “you should add a shot of brandy.” Ronnie retrieved a container of juice and rummaged through the liquor closet until she found a bottle of Triple Sec. “This’ll do,” she said. Returning to the living room, she saw that Tim had half-filled two champagne flutes with champagne. He quickly added an equal amount of juice, then she topped each off with a shot of Triple Sec.

  “To the evening,” Ronnie said, touching her glass to Tim’s.

  Tim stared into her eyes over the rim of his glass, unaware of the sensuousness of his gaze. “Yes. To the evening.”

  Not too fast, Ronnie told herself, tearing her eyes from his face. She wandered. “Nice place,” she said. They stood in the large living room which was comfortably furnished with a cream-and-navy rough-textured sofa, a matching lounge chair, and modern wooden coffee and end tables. The walls were covered with photos, mostly landscapes, taken all around the world. One that particularly intrigued her showed a market scene of stalls stacked with merchandise and aisles filled with over-tired tourists. Although the photo was in black and white, it conveyed all the colors of the scene. “Where’s this?”

  “Cairo,” he said. “I was there two years ago with my dad.”

  “And this?” The picture was of a river with houseboats littering its shores.

  “Amsterdam.”

  “Wow,” she said, honestly impressed. “Did you take all these pictures?”

  “Yeah. Photography has been a love of mine since I was a kid.”

  “These are terrific.”

  “Thanks. I’ve converted my second bedroom into a darkroom and I do all my own developing and enlarging.”

  Ronnie walked slowly around the room studying the black-and-white photos. “These are really very good. Do you ever do portraits?”

  “Sure.” He pulled out an album and proudly showed Ronnie several skillfully taken photographs of women. He pointed to one, a slightly over-made-up woman in her early twenties with an expression that, despite the smile, seemed disapproving. “That’s Clarisse, my ex-fiancée. I wanted to mount this photo on cardboard and use it as a dartboard, but it’s too good a picture. You know, it’s funny. Now that I think about it, this was one of the few times I ever saw her smile when it wasn’t for effect.”

  Ronnie laughed. “From what your father told me, the dartboard idea sounds like a good one.”

  Tim hesitated, then joined Ronnie’s laughter. “You’re right. But it truly is a good picture of her.” He studied the photo. “Actually, she’s never looked that good.”

  Ronnie kicked off her shoes, settled onto the sofa, and patted the seat next to her. “Sit here and we’ll talk.” As he sat down, she asked, “Would you be interested in taking some pictures of me? I’d love to have a good portrait to give Jack for our anniversary.”

  “Sure. That would be great. I’d really enjoy it.”

  “Have you ever considered taking portraits professionally? The ones you showed me were really good.”

  “Do you really think I could do this for money?”

  “You never know. Maybe the ones I have in mind will be the start of a new career.”

  While they made small talk Ronnie felt the alcohol warm her body and knew that it would be easing Tim’s fears as well. When there was a lapse in the conversation, she slid down so that her head rested on the back of the sofa. She handed Tim her glass and asked, “Would you like to kiss me?”

  Tim put their two glasses on the table and said, “I think I would.”

  Ronnie wrapped her hand around the back of Tim’s neck and gently pulled him toward her. She framed his face with her hands as he touched her lips with his. Gently, teasingly, she moved her mouth over his, nipping his lower lip with her teeth. “Ummm, nice,” she purred.

  Tim sat back. “This is so awkward. I don’t know what to do with my hands. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He looked away.

  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Ronnie said, “but I’ll be very disappointed.”

  Suddenly annoyed with the whole thing, he looked at her and snapped, “I don’t need charity.”

  Ronnie stood up, unzipped her jeans, and slid them to her knees. She grabbed Tim’s hand and pressed it against the crotch of her panties. “What do you feel? Am I hot and wet for you? Does this feel like charity?”

  Her heat warmed his hand and her wetness made his fingers damp. She wanted him. Really wanted him. He looked into her eyes and saw desire burning there. Oh Lord, don’t let me back out, he prayed, both to himself and to Ronnie.

  She pulled his hand away from her crotch and held it while she slid her jeans back up and sat back down on the sofa. “I want you,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his eyes, “but I’ll stop if you really want me to.” She raised his hand to her mouth and placed a kiss on the end of each finger. “Should I stop?”

  “No,” he moaned.

  She flicked her tongue over the tip of his index finger. “Then let’s pretend that this is your cock.” She drew the tip of his finger into her mouth. “Can you feel it? Does it feel good?”

  He certainly could and it was unbelievably erotic. Electricity sparked in his groin, hardening his penis. “It feels very good.” The words came out as part breath and part groan.

  “Good. Then close your eyes and let me suck you.” Tim closed his eyes and let his head fall onto the back of the sofa. It would be all right. Millimeter by millimeter she pulled Tim’s index finger into her mouth, licking and nipping at the tip. She moved to the second finger and sucked it, then the third and then the pinkie. She lavished attention on each finger of his other hand in turn, until heat radiated from his body.

  “This is how much I want you,” she whispered. She took his hand and rubbed the palm against one erect nipple. This w
as wonderful. She could use his hand to touch herself exactly the way she wanted. She pressed and rubbed, arching her back and reveling in the sensations caused by his hand on her breast. Despite her hunger, however, she went no further, wanting Tim to take some of the initiative.

  Soon touching Ronnie’s breast through her shirt wasn’t enough for Tim. He wanted to kiss her, to touch and taste her. He licked his lips and stared at her mouth. “I want you.” Hesitant to do anything to break the mood, yet unable to resist any longer, he leaned forward and brushed Ronnie’s lips with his. Suddenly he needed to devour and be devoured. He moved his head so he could delve into her warm mouth. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  Ronnie had never been kissed so thoroughly. “Oh Tim,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed for a long time, as Ronnie slowly stretched out on the sofa and pulled him over her so that his body covered hers.

  “Too many clothes,” Ronnie whispered when they paused for breath. As Ronnie removed her blouse and tossed it on a chair Tim stood up and pulled off his shirt. His body was just as beautiful as Ronnie had anticipated. When he stood and started to unbutton his jeans, Ronnie stopped him. “Not yet.” She stood up and moved so close to him that her lace-covered breasts brushed the sparse hair on his chest. Slowly she ran her hands over his well-developed shoulders. “When you opened the door I knew your body would look like this,” she murmured. “So beautiful.”

  “I go to the gym a couple of times a week,” he said, breathless. “I lift.”

  “You certainly do,” Ronnie said, sliding her palms over his chest and down his back. “Your body is wonderful.”

  Tim unhooked Ronnie’s bra and freed her breasts. “So is yours.”

  Ronnie slid Tim’s hands down her ribs. “Pick me up,” she said. “I want to feel you move.”

  With Ronnie’s palms on his upper arms, Tim tightened his hands on her waist and lifted. “I love the way your muscles move under your skin,” she said, kneading Tim’s biceps.

  “And I love your tits,” he said, holding her so her breasts were level with his mouth. He took one nipple and drew it into his mouth.