Discovering Cory's G-spot
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2026 by Mat Twassel
Flash Sex Story: I read a newspaper article this morning that Beverly Whipple, “a nurse, psychologist and sex educator whose 1982 book about the G-spot encouraged a generation of women to search for their erogenous zones,” died earlier this week. In her memory I uncovered this little story I wrote a couple of decades ago.
Caution: This Flash Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction .
I read a newspaper article this morning that Beverly Whipple, “a nurse, psychologist and sex educator whose 1982 book about the G-spot encouraged a generation of women to search for their erogenous zones,” died earlier this week. In her memory I uncovered this little story I wrote a couple of decades ago.
Discovering Cory’s G-Spot
Cory and I are both writers. Sex story writers. Sometimes we get together. Sometimes when we get together we get inspired. And sometimes not. That can be frustrating. Like this morning. Cory must have noticed I hadn’t touched my laptop in quite a few minutes. “What’s wrong?” she said.
“It’s the fucking G-Spot,” I said. Normally I refrain from use “fucking” as an epithet, preferring to keep its power for real fucking, but I was truly frustrated. “I really don’t like that word,” I said. “G-Spot. It sounds sort of ... I don’t know. Mechanical? Anyway, it’s not erotic.”
“Well, what would you rather call it?”
I confessed I didn’t know, and I asked Cory if she had any ideas. She shrugged. “Pleasure Zone?”
“Better, I guess. But still not perfect. Come on, put your thinking cap on. Together we should be able to come up with something better than G-Spot or Pleasure Zone. We’re reputable erotic writers, after all.”
Cory furled her brow. “The thing is,” she said after a moment and a frown. “The thing is, I’m not really sure I have a G-Spot. Or whatever you want to call it.”
I may have looked incredulous for a moment. Cory smiled. “Usually when I’m doing myself, I just focus on the clit. That’s more than enough for me.”
I nodded sagely. “But wouldn’t you like to explore ... just to know?”
Cory grinned. “Like my dad always said—if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Anyway, I guess I’m not much of an explorer.”
“What if someone else did the exploring?” I asked.
Cory’s grin deepened. “Someone else such as ... oh, who could it be? Possibly ... possibly ... wait, it’s on the tip of my tongue ... possibly ... Christopher Columbus?”
Cory’s eyes twinkled. I’m sure she registered my little jolt of disappointment.
“Or possibly you?” she blurted.
I felt close to blushing. “Are you just saying that because I’m here? Because I’m handy?”
“No, no, not at all. With your pith helmet and your ropes and pulleys and pitons and such like, I’m sure you’d make a great G-Spot explorer.”
“Sounds sort of like mountain climbing,” I ventured.
“When in search of the elusive G-Spot, best be prepared for anything,” Cory said.
“I don’t think I’d need any special equipment to speak of.”
“No laser beam flashlights? No Geiger counters? No ionization nebulizers?”
“What’s an ionization nebulizer?”
“I don’t know,” Cory said. “But when I was a little girl my older brother Greg got one for Christmas and he wouldn’t share. ‘I want one, too,’ I wailed, but he insisted ionization nebulizers were only for boys.”
“Well, if I had an ionization nebulizer, I’d share it with you.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“I know.”
“But could I trust you with my G-Spot?”
“I’d be very gentle,” I said. “I’d be sure you were completely comfortable.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Well, for starters, I’d have you sitting in a very comfy chair.”
“Mmm, I like that. What kind of chair?”
“One of those wing chairs, the kind with flaring arms. Queen Anne?”
“I think I know the kind you mean. Sort of like the one I’m sitting in now?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “Do you think you’d prefer leather or fabric?”
“Leather might be nice. Or fabric. Some kind of rich brocade. Like the fabric of this chair.”
“Uh-huh. But you could have a pillow for sitting upon.”
“Yes, a pillow might be nice. But probably not really necessary.”
“You’d let me know?”
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