(this is the continuing adventures that were begun in "Gee Spot Run." In that story, Jane and I meet in the park and talk about Jane's disappointing sex life. We both end up at my home, where I teach Jane how to truly enjoy the fine art of masturbation)

I didn't hear from Jane for a week, and I wasn't sure how to interpret her silence: was she boggled and speechless by the turbulence of her newly awakened lust;.... or was she beginning to think about publicly branding her neighbor as a wicked witch. Perhaps the years of rigid, puritanical training would win out over the libidinous thoughts that were welling out of her subconsciousness. I worried about the risk I had taken in confiding in her, but what's done is done, I thought.

Finally, almost a week after our afternoon walk and masturbation lessons, I got a call from her, inviting me over for dinner on Saturday. After a moment's hesitation-was this a setup, so that she and Dick could "save" me from my wickedness, or even worse, was I to be tied to the stake and burned like Joan of Arc-I agreed to come over. When I asked if she had read more of my stories, she said "Oh yes, but I can't talk about it now...." and in the background, I heard Dick speaking, so I let the subject drop, and asked if I could bring over anything for dinner. Jane told me "No, I'll have all the food ready, but it would be so nice if you could possibly bring over any more of the stuff that you lent me last week." I hadn't ever given her anything other than the stories, so I knew what she meant, and I was reassured to some extent.

Saturday evening came, and I arrived at their doorstep with a few more of my stories folded into a plain manila envelope. Since I had given her the more tame ones the first time, I was now left with the ones that I had worried were too explicit and unusual for her awakening tastes. But she had the milder ones already, so this is what was left. When she and Dick opened the door, I shook their hands, and Dick took my parka. While he wasn't paying attention, I handed Jane the package, which she placed behind the lamp on a side table. We went into the living room, and I was introduced to a friend of theirs who was a professor at the local college. Charles was a tall and handsome looking guy, but I knew right away that he was a little too smug and pretentious for my tastes. He was smart, and he wanted us to know it. Every subject that came up evoked an opinion from Charles that was carefully constructed like a fortress, unable to be assaulted by anyone else's perspective. Even a light-hearted disagreement with his dogmatic position would be scoffed at, then destroyed by a condescending defense of his point of view. I started to get more and more irritated by his attitude, but I held my tongue and behaved like a good guest. Dick seemed enthralled by Charles's great store of knowledge, admiring his conversational confidence. Jane appeared preoccupied, and she said very little. I wanted so much to ask her about what had been going on for her in the past week, but she certainly wasn't offering to bring it up the subject in the presence of the men.

Eventually, Jane went into the kitchen to prepare dinner- actually it was already to go, and just needed to be put on serving platters. I joined her, with the offer to help with the chores. When we were finally alone, I asked her what was going on, and she quickly recounted her frustration at the fact that Dick just didn't want to even talk about sex and her anxieties. He just refused to discuss it, and Jane was afraid to push him further. As for the stories and masturbation, she had been stealing moments throughout each day to read and play. So at least that part of her life was improving. Yet in the presence of her husband, she found herself reverting to the obedient little girl, filled with the guilt of her dirty little secret.

When we moved to the dining room, Charles was seated across from me around a round butcher block table. Not surprisingly, the table was set meticulously with fine linens and polished silver. After Jane had served the soup, Charles asked me how I knew Dick and Jane, and I explained that I lived down the street, and that Jane and I had enjoyed a particularly nice walk in the park the other day. Dick remarked that he hadn't heard about that encounter. Jane responded sheepishly by casting her gaze down at her plate, and I could see her twisting her napkin nervously. Her discomfort was obvious to all, and I wanted to draw attention away from her. When Jane explained that she and I had just met for a few moments that day, Dick wanted to know more, and he persisted in asking about what we had done that day, what we had talked about. Typical of so many men, he wanted to know everything, and he surely sensed an opportunity to exercise his manly dominance and power. Jane offered very little in response, and eventually, she looked up at me and our eyes locked. I gave her a totally reassuring and warm smile, trying to give her the strength to stand up for herself. Charles laughed, and said "these girls are up to something, Dick, and if I were you, I'd get to the bottom of it."

Calling us "girls" was the last straw (after all, we were all in our early forties), so I responded quickly, "For someone who knows so much, you know so little."

Well, I was off and running now, and any ideas of maintaining my social graces had flown out the window. When Charles came back with "So what is it that I am failing to grasp," I just had to let him know. I told him that "Jane, and many other women, are living their lives as slaves to an image of sanctimonious womanhood that just misses the mark completely. Can't you see that Jane is not a happy person, that she is yearning for more excitement and more freedom."

I went on for a bit more, and then took a look over at Dick. He was shell-shocked, I think, for he had no idea the feelings that Jane was struggling with. He said to her "Jane, what's going on? I know you're happy with your life. We have so much to be grateful for. Tell Sue to shut up, tell them all that she doesn't know what she is talking about...."

As he spoke, Jane shook herself out of her trance, and she looked back at me for another spoonful of courage before interrupting Dick with a long and spirited explanation of what was really going on in her life. At first, she talked haltingly and in generalities, about her discontent with their predictable and rigid existence. But eventually, Jane let the word "sex" pass by her lips, and then a floodgate opened up within her, and she spoke emotionally about the emptiness of their sex lives, and the need she had for stimulation and excitement. Dick's face was expressionless, and his mouth hung open. Charles listened attentively, with a little smirk. This was none of his business, but Jane could care less if he eavesdropped on her confession. She was staring holes through Dick's head, as she finally got around to mentioning my stories, and how they opened up a brave new world for Jane that included fantasies and concepts that turned her on, liberating her from the confines of her straight-laced lifestyle.

At the reference to the fact that I had provided Jane with some of my stories, Charles pricked up his ears. "Isn't that interesting," he said, "our little friend here has it in her head that she is an author of erotica. I suppose that may be true, if you include the silly musings that pass for sexuality in romance novels. I'm sure that it is nothing that really gets at the nitty-gritty stuff about sex that interests real men."

Boy, did that man know how to push my buttons. I had something to prove to him. Dick voiced his stuttering objections-he wanted everyone to shut up and talk about something else. Fat chance! Jane had finally opened up her "hope chest," Charles was gloating over his attempted put- down, and I was ready to prove him wrong.

"OK, Charles, why don't I read something of mine, and you see if you can remain disinterested. You can guess what the test will be. If my story excites you, we'll all know it." And with that, I let my focus drop to his lap, where his napkin lay limply. I stood up and walked out to the hallway and recovered the manila envelope. When I returned, they all sat silently. In particular, I noticed Jane's eyes flashing around from person to person.... and I also saw the jutting nubs of her incredible nipples pushing against the white fabric of her blouse. Perhaps I was mistaken, but it seemed like she wasn't wearing a bra. What a change from the plain Jane of a week ago! Her breathing was becoming labored, reminding me of how energetic she got about masturbating for me. Once unchained, she was a wild sexual animal.

I sat down again, and pulled out my story entitled "Louvre Love." I chose it because it was reasonably short, and the build up got around to the really juicy stuff. Without any introduction, I began reading. "Across the wide marble floor of the art museum, I think I see your face again...." I kept my attention firmly locked on the printed words, until I got to the first real sex scene of the story: "You almost seem to be in a trance as I purse my lips over the tip of your cock and gently milk your balls. When I take one hand and press the tips of my fingers up behind your balls and press upwards and forwards right in front of your asshole, I push a dollop of precome up through your rigid cock, and it drools out onto my lips." At that point, I glance quickly around the table. Charles is somewhat inscrutable, but at least he has shut up for a few minutes. Perhaps that is victory enough. Jane's eyes are wide, and her I can hear the faint rasping of her breathing. Dick has his fingertips pressed to his temples, and he has pushed his hair up into disarray. He avoids looking at me, or for that matter, anyone else.

Back to the reading of my story. I didn't look up again, even when I described about how I impaled myself on the great bronze god-cock of the sculpture... or how my partner and I fucked each other in the embrace of the marble sculpture. I eventually get to the last paragraph:

"I can hear the squishing sounds as your fingers probes around, and I describe to you where my G spot is. After a few attempts, you find it and I encourage you to rub it firmly with a circular motion. I reach behind me and pull my ass cheeks apart so that you can have total free access. Your thumb lightly caresses my asshole. My clitoris, my cunt, and my asshole are all being stimulated at once, and I add to this by massaging my breasts into the stone woman's thigh. I stare ahead into the joining of the woman's cunt with the man's balls. As I stretch my tongue out to lick at the cold juncture between the two of them, you nibble down hard on my clitoris and suck my labia up into your mouth. That's perfect, and I immediately go over the edge and into an incredible orgasm. I'm coming and coming. I squeeze down hard on my ass cheeks with my hands. Wave after wave washes over me, and your fingers vibrates over my g spot. I gulp in air between the electric pulses of each pounding wave, and my cunt clenches down on your fingers. I feel my asshole palpitating around the tip of your thumb. My orgasm lasts for so long,......... until finally it subsides, and I take a moment to get my wits about me...."

As I finished the last words, I let the silence of the moment linger, then I turned to Charles and demanded that he stand up. When he refused, I slid out of my chair and stood behind his. Reaching around the back, I abruptly jabbed my fingers into his sides. I guessed correctly that he was ticklish, and he was so startled that he jumped to his feet so that he could defend himself. And there was the evidence of his reaction to my story. His slacks were plainly tented with his erection, and the khaki material had small dark stain of spreading moisture. He was embarrassed, perhaps not so much to have his aroused cock made visible, but even more to have lost my challenge. He was a proud man, and being shown up by me was an unwanted sign of his fallibility. He sat back down in his chair with a leaden thunk.

I too sat down again. I'd had my victory, and it was time to be magnanimous. "Charles, earlier I said that for someone who knows so much, you know so little. Well, I suppose that this is to be expected when your IQ tops the charts, and you spend too much time in libraries, lecture halls, and Mensa meetings. Probably all your girlfriends have been fawning little coeds and the like. So here's a deal for you. How would you like to expand your horizons tonight? I'd like for you to discover what a real, hot-blooded woman is like, and how you can satisfy her, and yourself at the same time. Come into the bedroom with me right now, and you can start your re-education. I'm not even going to ask you if you will do this. Just join me in the bedroom, or not. It would be your loss if you don't. All this talk has made me very hungry... but not for the good food that Jane has prepared.

As I stood up and started to walk out of the room, Jane spoke up. "Can I watch?" I said "Well of course, Jane. I'd like that very much. And if Charles doesn't show up, we can watch each other again."

Dick was finally shaken out of his lethargy. I was standing right next to him, and looking down, I could see his erection showing through his pants. So much for self- control. But in this moment of truth, he fell back on his timeworn thinking. "JANE! How could you? You can't possibly want to join them in this wickedness. And anyway, what did Sue mean by 'again?' I am going to throw this cunning temptress out of the house right this minute."

Jane responded immediately. "Don't you dare. Sue is my guest, and my friend. She is giving me the keys to my happiness. Don't you interfere. I won't tell you what to do with yourself right now, but you had better not try to stop me, or I'll leave tonight and never come back." Dick was struck dumb as Jane smiled broadly at her new-found power, and I laughed softly to myself as I strode though the door into the hallway and found my way to Dick and Jane's bedroom. It was decorated in sort of a "colonial quaint" style, with Currier and Ives prints on the wall, ruffled white curtains, and a thick maroon comforter on the pencil- post bed. Kicking off my shoes, I jumped up onto that bed and propped up the floral print pillows behind my back. When I looked back at the door, there was Jane, leaning against the jamb with her the fingers of one hand pulling and twirling her short bangs. I was just about to speak to her so that I could find out how she was handling the stormy discussion in her dining room, when Charles pushed past her and stood next to the bed. His eyes were now fiery with lust, and his erection still press at the fly of his pants. He reached over to turn off the table lamp, when I stopped him, saying "Leave it on. Jane wants to watch. And so do I. So take off your clothes for me." He seemed taken aback by the firmness in my voice, as he was clearly not accustomed to a woman in the bedroom who did anything but mewl like a kitten in the dark.

Nevertheless, he was driven to continue, and I'm not sure what it would have taken to stop him at this point. He stepped back from me and yanked his sweater over his head. When he started to unbutton his shirt as fast as a fireman getting on his uniform for a fire, I commanded him to slow down. "Don't you think you could put on a little show for us? Show us what you've got hidden under all those starched duds, but do it slow and easy." I winked mischievously, hoping that it would help relax him, and he did calm down a bit. When his button-down shirt was gone, he left on his ribbed sleeveless undershirt. He unbuckled his khaki slacks and pushed them down to his ankles. But he had neglected to take off his shoes, so he struggled awkwardly to untangle the knot of clothes while he remained jackknifed at the waist. Eventually, the snarl came off of his feet, and he straightened up, showing us his underwear, which was uncharacteristic, I thought, for he was wearing a pair of those teeny, tight bikini briefs. Through the thin black cotton, Jane and I could see his erect cock clearly outlined and pointing straight up towards his belly button. Bushy black hair overflowed all around the edges of his briefs, and filled the V-neck of his undershirt. Little clumps of hair also sprouted on his shoulders and upper back. All-in- all, not a bad looking body, and I made the assumption that he had taken advantage of the facilities at the College sports center. He didn't get that physique by only exercising his ego.