Message-ID: <18171eli$9812210649@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sidney_durham@my-dejanews.com Subject: {Durham} Jerome's Splendid MF, Cons Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <75jsph$ogp$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com> NOTICE: This story contains detailed and explicit descriptions of sexual activity. It is intended to be read by adults who are 21 years of age or older. If you are not such an individual, or if such material is illegal where you live, or if such material is offensive to you, then DO NOT READ FURTHER. This story is copyright (c)1998-99 by the author, all rights reserved. It may be posted in alt.sex.stories.moderated and in alt.sex.stories without permission of the author. It may also be distributed by others and placed on non-commercial web pages, PROVIDED THAT THIS DISCLAIMER AND COPYRIGHT NOTICE REMAINS INTACT. This story may not be used in any way in any commercial activity without explicit prior written permission of the author. Comments are welcome at sidney_durham@my-dejanews.com. If you get nasty or otherwise waste my time, I'll ignore you. Jerome's Splendid by Sidney Durham I must begin by telling you about Jerome's penis. This account is not about Jerome's penis, but I am compelled to share it with you, in a manner of speaking. Jerome played a major part in changing my life, and he deserves this praise. You see, Jerome had quite a lovely penis. I say that even though he forcefully objected to the word "lovely." Over time, we grappled with this problem at length and he eventually agreed to "splendid," which also suits him quite well. I should add, however, that I was not terribly experienced with penises at the time. I was barely into my twenties and had only had an opportunity to compare Jerome's penis with that of two other men. In my small sample he was a clear leader in terms of beauty; and today I would say that he would be, in fact, still near the top of the list, if not actually at the top. I know that some women claim they find penises ugly, but I cannot agree with such a generalization. Some of them might be considered ugly, to be sure, but in the main, form does not displace function. If one has occasion to become involved with a man whose penis is, shall we say, cosmetically challenged, then one is simply deprived of a bit of visual stimulation. I have found that keeping one's eyes closed in such circumstances and using one's imagination is a very adequate solution. There were several things that made Jerome's penis distinctive. First, he was uncircumcised, and we all must admit that, being as nature intended, he had a head start, so to speak, over the circumcised - or, as I prefer to think of it, the mutilated. Secondly, his penis was correctly proportioned, its diameter and length in proper perspective, regardless of condition. It was also particularly straight, possessing a natural symmetry. (He once told me that he could and did masturbate with either hand, thinking this might be the reason there was no curvature.) It was also unblemished, having a color like that of spring honey. Its skin was smooth, supple and soft, which tempted one to be inclined to stroke it with one's fingertips - ordinarily producing a predictable reaction, of course. Another important feature was that Jerome's penis did not virtually disappear from view when in its normal state, as do the penises of many unfortunate men. Indeed, he remained nearly as large when normal, and I once decided to trim his pubic hair to accentuate this characteristic, as well as to maximize the overall beauty of his penis. We found the grooming process to be so engaging that I subsequently trimmed him every four weeks. Of course, it was often necessary to suspend this task briefly before it was completed, on account of certain distractions. When Jerome visited, usually three times per week, it was our custom to discuss literature and public affairs while seated on the settee in my flat. Often we would soon find ourselves with our clothing in disarray. Full nudity was uncommon during our conversations - in fact we tended to stop short of it - but was often important to me to have ready access to his lovely attraction, and he maintained that fairness entitled him to have free access to my bosoms, which, he regularly assured me, were also quite lovely. He would touch and caress my breasts as we talked, while my hands - and eyes - would be occupied with "Splendid," as I had taken to calling it. Both of us found it tantalizing for me to render him fully alert, whereupon I would unhand him, allowing the situation to subside. At some point, however, one of us would become impatient, and we would have to suspend our discussions due to lack of interest, and get on with the business of our pleasures. I have yet to mention one other quite remarkable feature of Jerome's penis: its flavor. I hasten to add, to avoid presumptuous conclusions, that I am not referring to the flavor one might immediately think I am. I am referring instead to the flavor of his penis itself, not its issue. This remarkable flavor was very much like peaches, sugar and cream, and I came to be incredibly fond of it. I confess I have never understood this phenomenon. The flavor was not present at all times, and it was only present on the part of his penis that was covered by skin. There were two requirements to produce the flavor: it was necessary for him to be in an aroused state, and it was necessary to introduce my own saliva to produce the effect. I am sure it is easy to understand that I could not taste of Jerome for any extended period, as this could easily bring about an event that would eliminate one of the two conditions necessary to produce the flavoring. He, of course, was quite willing to allow me to taste him whenever I wished. I came to know that my saliva was required, by the way, one evening when I allowed a friend to taste Jerome, simply because she though I was daft. She did so with considerable gusto, causing him to lose complete control of himself. However, afterward, she told me that she had tasted nothing unusual. Unbelieving, I tasted him myself, and his flavor was there, as I have explained. I asked my friend to taste him again, and she grew quite excited, proclaiming that this was the most wonderful effect she had ever experienced. However, as her own saliva displaced mine his flavor faded and it became necessary for me to renew it for her. This went on for quite some time as my friend and I marveled at Jerome's flavor. Needless to say Jerome remembers that evening with considerable gratitude. I must conclude that there was some chemical reaction occurring involving my saliva and some sort of secretion from Jerome's skin, possibly resulting from something in our diets. Perhaps today's medical science could find an explanation, but unfortunately poor Jerome is gone. I understand he died a natural death in 1987, at the age of just under one hundred years. So. Having spent so much time explaining how delightful my relationship was with Jerome, I should now proceed with my tale, lest you become impatient with me. As I have said, this tale is not about Jerome at all, although he did play a major role in what transpired. You see, I was burdened with a problem that brought an imperfection to what must sound like a delightful relationship. In brief, I was unable to achieve an orgasm with Jerome, and had, in fact, never experienced it at all. Jerome was at once concerned and distressed by this, and made valiant efforts to overcome the problem, often exhausting himself in the process. It was his efforts that caused my feelings about him to evolve into true affection. Our relationship began as one that was mutually enjoyable but purely recreational, and it had evolved into a situation where I felt considerable fondness for him, as I believe he did for me. It was my fervent desire to solve this problem, and he was very sympathetic and concerned. Jerome was a medical student, and his father was a renowned physician. Unbeknownst to me Jerome had consulted with his father and some of his colleagues, and arrived one evening at my flat accompanied by a woman whom he introduced as Dr. Lillian McCall. She was in the business, he explained, of providing therapy to persons who were experiencing problems in the intimate parts of their lives. At first I was put off by this. I was not anxious to have our intimacy exposed and examined by a third party, a stranger. However, Dr. McCall was very gracious and understanding, and as she explained the way she worked I became more at ease. I will not elaborate on her methods now. You will learn as much as I am willing to reveal as I describe the process I was about to undergo. She wanted to begin, she said, by exploring our sexual histories. She said that it was understandable that each of us might prefer that other not be present during this, and that if we wished the discussions could take place individually. Jerome and I simply glanced at each other and reached a tacit agreement that we would hide nothing from one another. Dr. McCall began with Jerome, and I learned that his sexual life had consisted primarily of solitary activities before I came into his life. He had experienced the pleasures of sex with only two women before me: one of them was a middle-aged woman who had taken it upon herself to educate him, and the other was a series of innocent and untidy adolescent experiments with the daughter of a neighbor, actually his first foray into the world of sex. He had taken advantage of the interest of the elder of the two somewhat regularly during his adolescent years, and had continued to rely upon her occasionally during the time he had been in medical school. He had, he said, stopped seeing her when he met me. I believe he was being truthful. My own history was as brief. I had experimented with a cousin when I was sixteen, each of us motivated by curiosity about the other's physiology. My cousin's own libido dominated these activities and after watching him and assisting him in vigorous and rapid masturbation two or three times I called a halt to it, simply because of his failure to be attentive to me and his manifest embarrassment following ejaculation. My maidenhead was taken two years later, by a young man who came to live with my family for a few years. There was nothing remarkable about this event, nor was there anything remarkable about any of the encounters I had with him during the three years following it. Because of my curiosity, because this was a new experience for me, and because there was some physical pleasure, I did enjoy the process. I willingly accommodated him, serving primarily as a receptacle - actually as a platform, since he carefully avoided doing anything that could have impregnated me, normally finishing the process by making use of my hand or his own, his emission usually falling somewhere on the lower half of my body. I found the spectacle of his ejaculation particularly fascinating. He asked me to accept him orally occasionally, which I willingly did, but he did not do this often, seemingly unable to overcome the idea that this was an unreasonable request to make of me. Throughout I was blithely unaware that I could have been enjoying these encounters more. It was not until Jerome became concerned that I knew there was something I had missed. I do not believe my concern was as great as his, however, simply because I didn't know what I was missing. Having said that, I hasten to add that I began to wish I could enjoy the full experience. Having observed the intensity of Jerome's pleasure during intercourse, I wanted to take that same path with him. Lillian McCall seemed satisfied with the brief descriptions of the sexual parts of our lives. She had asked for this, she explained, simply for background information, and was much more interested in looking forward, along a path to my "cure." She began to question us about our sexual activities. Her questions were quite specific, and it soon became clear that Jerome and I were both uncomfortable describing our activities in the kind of detail she sought. After some time she suggested that it might be easier for all of us if she were to become an observer. We agreed, but reluctantly. Dr. McCall asked us to begin as we always did. We explained that this was not easy to do, as our beginnings usually involved a conversation between us, something that would seem forced in her presence. "Very well," she said. "Why don't you simply go into the bedroom and make love?" We agreed to proceed in that manner. In the bedroom, Jerome and I disrobed while Dr. McCall turned down the bed. We seated ourselves on the bed, our backs resting on the headboard. To our surprise, Dr. McCall began removing her clothes. She explained that this was her usual practice in sessions like this, that it helped to alleviate the clinical feel of our proceedings. I have neglected to say that she was quite beautiful, and even more dramatic when disrobed. She has quite a striking figure. Her breasts were full yet unsagging, and beneath she had an amazingly brilliant mass of orange hair covering her genital area. I am not ordinarily strongly taken with women, but Dr. McCall certainly caught my attention. She took a seat in a chair she had positioned at the foot of the bed and waited. Jerome had placed his arm over my shoulders just as Dr. McCall removed the last of her clothing, and had been lightly caressing my breasts since. My nipples had become erect without my notice, and glancing down I could see that Jerome was reaching the same state. Boldly, I grasped his penis at its base, between my first two fingers, and scissored it upright. "Isn't this is lovely?" I asked Dr. McCall. Dr. McCall simply nodded and smiled, and told me that I was not to involve her in what we were doing. "I know I can't be ignored completely," she said, "but I am not here to participate in any way." I noticed that I was becoming damp. I closed my hand around Jerome's penis and began moving it up and down, squeezing only gently, and pumping him ever so slowly. He turned a bit, cupping me with his free hand, warming me for a moment before he began insinuating his finger between my nether lips. His lips found mine and we kissed, taking a long drink of each other. Suddenly, without even a hint of a warning, Jerome grunted, a puff of air through his nose, and began to ejaculate. I tried to watch the process, as I've always liked doing when he happened to be outside me when this happened, but I was distracted by something remarkable. At the instant he began I experienced a strong quivering inside me, a feeling of intense pleasure that nearly made me swoon and left me gasping. Jerome was very apologetic. "I know you wanted us to have intercourse," he said to Dr. McCall, "and I've gone and ruined it. I'm so sorry." Dr. McCall said not to worry, that we had plenty of time. "I think I did it, too," I finally managed to say, still gasping. "Yes," she said, as if to affirm my idea. She was smiling. "There doesn't seem to be much wrong with you after all." She had gotten a towel, and Jerome and I tidied the scene. I was quite sodden by then, as some of his issue had reached my stomach and my pubic hair, so Jerome got a warm dampened cloth and cleaned me lovingly. I was encouraged and excited. I had at last experienced that for which I had been longing. However, as the evening ensued I was to become distressed once again . I was unable to repeat the achievement. Poor Jerome strove valiantly. He tried penetrating me from every conceivable angle in every conceivable position. He tried manipulating me with his hand and fingers. He kissed me there, licked me, and pushed his tongue into me, all to no avail. Dr. McCall began to participate more actively when it became clear that my difficulty continued. She coached Jerome, offering suggestions, explaining - even showing. At one point she allowed Jerome to penetrate her in order to demonstrate to me us methods we could use to maximize the effect of his penetration and to maximize especially the involvement of my little clitoris at the same time. Of course her beauty derailed us briefly, as Jerome was unable to resist her allure and ejaculated again during her demonstration, just at the moment she had taken him in her hand to point out how the ridge of his glans would stimulate me inside. Again he apologized profusely, but the incident did provide at least a moment of comic relief. Alas, all their efforts were to no avail for me. I was at least happy that Jerome's efforts were rewarded, but my pleasure with this was strongly dampened by my disappointment. I knew that under his ministrations many women would have experienced orgasm several times, yet I was unable to achieve even one more after the first. At last we rested. Jerome and I were both becoming irritated in our most tender areas, and poor Jerome was nearing physical exhaustion. I began crying. "Listen to me for a moment," said Dr. McCall, taking my face in her hands and wiping away my tears. "This evening has been a learning process for us. We have learned that you can indeed have an orgasm, and the two of you have probably learned some new things about good sexual procedure. I am sure you will agree, for example, that Jerome has learned some new skills that you will later appreciate." "Unfortunately," she continued, "your single orgasm was not genuine. It was manufactured." "Manufactured?" I sniffed. "I created it," she said. "I have the capability to cause people to have orgasms by using only my mind. Unfortunately my control isn't always that keen. That explains why the two of you had the simultaneous event." I started at her in disbelief. "You're not being truthful," I said. Jerome looked at me seriously. "My father and his colleagues are convinced it's true," he said. Dr. McCall became quiet for a moment and I waited expectantly for her to continue. As I did this, I suddenly became aware of the return of the new feelings I'd had earlier in the evening, and, thinking I might be on the way to another orgasm, glanced at Jerome. He was indeed quite erect again, and had thrown his head back on the headboard and closed his eyes. Then the poor fellow started spurting semen again. And I had the experience again. It was tumultuous, no doubt enhanced by the long evening of intense sexual activity that had just passed. I actually fell into a swoon and poor Jerome became quite distressed. "Please explain, Dr. McCall," I begged, once I had recovered. "How do you do that?" She refused that day to explain, but I did learn more at a later time. I shall pause a moment at this point and explain. During the twentieth year of her life, Lillian McCall decided to pursue a degree in law. Until that time she had managed quite well for herself as a sophisticated society courtesan, but in the main she found the work unchallenging and for the most part boring. The gentlemen who provided her best financial gain were older, abrupt and unimaginative, and she grew weary of having to constantly coax them through the process. This is not to say that Lillian did not enjoy sex. She did, in fact, have a number of very satisfying sexual relationships, "off the books," so to speak. There were several men who served her quite effectively and she had great fondness for all of them. Nonetheless, she felt compelled to establish a new career for herself, and decided to become a barrister. Much to the dismay of her clients, she terminated all her business relationships with them and enrolled in one of the best universities in America and began her studies in earnest. She would soon learn, though, that the rigors of university studies required her to suspend many of her other activities, including her own personal sexual activity. This, in particular, she gave up with great regret. Nonetheless she did appease herself with solitary sex. In fact, she became quite accomplished at it in a very short time. On a particular evening that she says she will always remember, Lillian decided to try to achieve an orgasm without touching herself. She had long practiced meditation and was already skilled in achieving intense focus, and she attempted to apply this focus to reaching orgasm by way of mental stimulation rather than physical stimulation. She was successful, as she always had been at anything she decided to do. This capability served her quite nicely for many months, as she could now masturbate at any time, at any location, without revealing even a hint of what she was doing. One warm spring afternoon, in a stuffy lecture hall, while listening to an exceptionally boring guest lecturer, Lillian chose to apply her new skill, simply to relieve her own overwhelming boredom. She had not yet done this in the midst of a crowd, so there was some interest on her part to learn if she might find the experience more satisfying. She focused briefly, and as the waves started flowing through her body she noticed that there was something of a stir in the seats around her, occurring at the exact moment of her orgasm. She thought at first that she must have made some sound without knowing of it, but as she looked about her she could see that none of the nearby students seemed to be taking particular notice of her, although many of them appeared to be somewhat distressed. Lillian was somewhat mystified by this, but decided her imagination was simply tricking her and thought no more about it. That is, not until she practiced her skill in the presence of others a second time. It was an occasion when one of her lovers had called her to tell her he was in town on business, and would love to renew their acquaintance the following evening. Lillian was quite eager to do this, she told him, but only at the price of a nice dinner first. During dinner Lillian found that she was becoming excited about the prospects of the rest of the evening and decided to give herself a preview gift. By this time she was accomplished enough in her special skill that she could perform it while seeming to be attentive to what her lover was saying. To her surprise, he stopped talking, mid-sentence, just as her orgasm occurred, seeming to have lost his composure. She knew him quite well, and had seen him react in this manner before. She knew, beyond any doubt, that he'd just ejaculated. Later in the evening, after having first satisfied herself with a long, luscious fuck, she tried her skill again, as a deliberate experiment. She was able to perform the act rather quickly, often in less than a minute, and as she began she watched her lover's penis rise and become erect, in exact concert with her own rising passion, and then he ejaculated, in perfect timing with her own orgasm. Lillian was at once pleased to learn that she could do this, and disappointed to know that she would have to practice restraint when giving herself a favor in the presence of others. Nonetheless her skill served her in good stead. During her undergraduate years she was able to apply it to faculty members, both male and female, to render them momentarily helpless and under her control. An unfortunate aspect of this, however, was that many of her victims came to believe that they were in love with her. This included the poor gentleman with whom she had first confirmed her power, who became so infatuated with her that she ultimately had to dismiss him and send him away. Over time Lillian learned to focus her power more effectively, to the point where she could limit its effect to specific individuals, provided there were no other people within a few feet of her victim. She also learned how to perform this procedure without reaching orgasm on her own, a skill that she would use to preserve her own sensibilities when necessary. Lillian continued to make use of her cerebral cunt, as she came to call it, after entering the business world as a junior corporate lawyer. Many times she used it simply as a form of amusement for herself, but she also used it to help her attain a substantial reputation as a skilled negotiator who was able to win point after point without the usual clamorous process employed by most negotiators. Heightening her reputation was the fact that at the end of a negotiating session her adversaries often appeared to be quite drained, while she was as fresh and composed as she had been at the beginning. It was a few years later that Lillian learned her body had virtually stopped aging, and decided to secure a medical degree in the hope of understanding what was happening. I shall not attempt to explain any of this, nor will I discuss what Lillian learned about herself after she had become a physician. I simply offer the preceding account as it is, as it was told to me by Lillian. For reasons you will soon learn I know that what I have said is true; I do not care if others believe it. Instead, I shall proceed at this point with my own tale. As might be expected, I was quite distressed. I knew that I could achieve an orgasm, that physically my body was capable of doing so. I had also learned how exquisite an orgasm can be. However, nobody, Dr. McCall included, knew how to produce one for me, the only exception being Dr. McCall's wonderful gift. The following evening, Jerome came to me and told me that his father and a number of other prominent physicians had discussed my problem and had agreed to provide funding for an experiment. Assuming I was willing, Dr. McCall and I would take ourselves to a retreat in the Swiss Alps, where she would attempt to teach me her skills. All the physicians, Dr. McCall included, were interested in doing this to further medical science, and I, of course, simply wanted to learn how to have an orgasm. The agreement was made, and off we went. I truly wish I could describe our experience in detail, but I shall not, for reasons that will be apparent in a moment. It will have to suffice to simply say that Dr. McCall did teach me her meditation techniques, and she did teach me how to achieve an orgasm through meditation. I should add, by the way, that, although our funding was sufficient for six months, it only took her three weeks to teach me all this. We spent the remainder of the time we were in the Alps traveling and sightseeing - and I spent an enormous amount of time practicing my new skill. For all of this I am eternally grateful. Mark my words carefully. I said I am eternally grateful, and this is the literal truth. Like Lillian McCall, who is now my closest friend, I too seem to have stopped aging. With Lillian's permission I attempted to teach these techniques to Jerome. Unfortunately, he was unable to learn all the necessary skills. He became quite proficient at hands-free masturbation, so to speak, but he was never able to cause others to reach an orgasm in our unconventional way. After some research, Lillian concluded that men are simply not capable of doing what we can do. Perhaps it is just as well. Lillian and I know that we could become enormously wealthy by making use of what we know, by teaching others for a fee. For now, however, we have made a pact to control the secret very carefully. We do not wish to be responsible for what might happen to our civilization if we reveal our secret. It is too easy to teach, and it would be only a very short time before the entire world - and all the men - would be under the full control of immortal women. You will surely agree that such a circumstance would be completely abhorrent to those who make up today's male-dominated power structure. Of course, it might just be possible that Lillian and I have been teaching our skills to others during the past eighty years. If we were, we would, of course, select our students very carefully, limiting them only to women who fully understand the chaos they could cause if their skills were taught to the wrong people. We would select perhaps only one or two women each year, and once trained, they would be free to conduct the same kind of training. However, I think Lillian and I would always reserve the right to supervise the selection process until we were certain the new inductee was choosing her own inductees judiciously. If we were to do this, the migration of our skills throughout the female population would be gradual and controlled, with the number of new inductees doubling each year. By the time the world caught on to what was happening, there would be enough of us to manage the situation. Are we doing this? Oh, of course not! Contrary to popular opinion, the vast majority of women have absolutely no interest in controlling civilization. Our men are doing a fine job, aren't they? Moreover, if we were training new women each year, we certainly wouldn't want anybody to know about it. We would probably have to forcefully deny any specious accusations of that type. Oh, by the way: I should point out that the rumors you might have heard about a secret Amazon society are gr -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----