Learning The Hard Way

By Maximillian Excaliber


Introduction

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the DSM, is
used by mental health professionals as a reference guide when diagnosing
and documenting mental disorders.

Included in the DSM is a condition known as Sexual Aversion Disorder.
Sexual Aversion Disorder is commonly found in victims of rape,
molestation or other forms of sexual abuse. This story does not contain
any reference to rape, molestation or sexual abuse and none should be
implied.

The following information is included to help you better understand the
actions of one of the characters in this story.

From the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fourth
Edition (DSM-IV):

302.79 Sexual Aversion Disorder

The essential feature of Sexual Aversion Disorder is the aversion to
and active avoidance of genital sexual contact with a sexual partner.
The disturbance must cause marked distress or interpersonal difficulty.
The dysfunction is not better accounted for by another Axis I disorder
(except another Sexual Dysfunction). The individual reports anxiety,
fear, or disgust when confronted by a sexual opportunity with a
partner. The aversion to contact maybe focused on a particular aspect
of sexual experience (e.g., genital secretions, vaginal penetration).
Some individuals experience generalized revulsion to all sexual stimuli,
including kissing and touching. The intensity of the individual’s
reactions when exposed to the aversive stimulus may range from moderate
anxiety and lack of pleasure to extreme psychological distress.

Subtypes

Subtypes are provided to indicate onset (Lifelong versus Acquired),
context (Generalized versus Situational), and etiological factors (Due
to Psychological Factors, Due to Combined Factors) for Sexual Aversion
Disorder.

Associated Features and Disorders

When confronted with a sexual situation, some individuals with severe
Sexual Aversion Disorder may experience Panic Attacks with extreme
anxiety, feelings of terror, faintness, nausea, palpitations, dizziness,
and breathing difficulties. There may be markedly impaired
interpersonal relations (e.g., marital dissatisfaction). Individuals
may avoid sexual situations or potential sexual partners by covert
strategies (e.g., going to sleep early, traveling, neglecting personal
appearances, using substances, and being over-involved in work, social,
or family activities).

And now, on with the story…


Chapter One – Lesson One: Lecture

I have to say, for some reason I couldn’t figure out at the time, my
heart was racing and I was excited. If that wasn’t enough, somewhere in
the back of my brain was a little voice asking me ‘Is she really
serious? Maybe this is just a big a come-on?’

My name, in case I haven’t mentioned it, is Joel Johnson and the woman I
was just referring to is Gwendolyn O’hara. I used to date her in back
in high school, but I’ll tell you more about that later.

At the time she was looking right at me and I had to say something. I
just didn’t know what.

“All right, what do you want to know?”

Seeming perplexed, Gwen replied, “I don’t know.” She thought a second
and then asked, “How about we start with the sexual positions I don’t know?”

“Do you know any other positions than missionary?” I asked.

Her answer was short and simple, “No.”

“Well, first there’s missionary inverted. That’s where the woman is on
top.”

I guess she was confused because Gwen asked, “You mean the woman gets
between the man’s legs?”

“No, but I’ve seen that done before. I can’t say I remember the name
for it though. Just imagine that you and whomever you are with both
roll over while doing it in missionary position. When you stop rolling;
you are on top and he is on the bottom; and, your legs are still on the
outside of his.”

I could tell she didn’t fully understand me when she asked, “How does he
move with me on top of him?”

“Usually, he doesn’t. You do.”

I could see her picturing it in her mind.

Unfortunately, so was I. And, the image was very arousing, as my then
awaking manhood can testified.

After a few seconds, Gwen said, “I think I’ve got it. What’s next?”

“Continuing with woman on top positions, I guess the next would be cowgirl.”

She giggled. “How’s that one work?”

“Well, the man lies on his back; and, you kneel facing him in an almost
sitting fashion. Then, using your legs, you move up and down sort of in
a bouncing motion. Got it?”

Nodding, Gwen replied, “Yes. That sounds easy enough. What’s next?”

“Then there’s reverse cowgirl. It’s pretty much the same but you’re
facing the other way.”

I could see her thinking again. “Okay, I got it.”

“Have you ever heard of doggie style?”

There was another “No.” for an answer.

“Well, doggie style is when the woman is kneeling on all fours and gets
on his knees behind her. Then after he crawls between her legs, enters
her from behind.”

She laughed, and then said, “Is there any barking involved?”

“Not usually; but, I have known more than one woman to howl in that
position.”

Now it was her turn to say, “You’re kidding; aren’t you?”

“Not at all. It’s one of the best positions for stimulating a woman’s
g-spot.”

Obviously intrigued, Gwen asked, “Her what?”

“G-spot, it’s a sensitive area about one to two inches inside the
vagina. If you were kneeling and on all fours, as in doggie style, it
would be on the bottom.”

There was a tone of excitement in her voice when Gwen next asked, “How
is that more stimulating for me, ah, the woman?”

“If the angle is right, each time the man’s penis enters you it will rub
against your g-spot.”

I could see a perplexed look on her face and could tell she didn’t
understand.

“Being a man, I can’t explain it to you. I think you’re just going to
have to try it and find out someday.”

Something told me my answer wasn’t good enough for her so I moved on.

“Next we have several of what I like to call variants of the missionary
position.”

A look of surprise came appeared on her face followed by her saying,
“Wait a minute, you mean there’s more than one way to do missionary?
Patty never told me that.”

“He might not have known. And yes, there’s ‘The Deck Chair’, ‘The Deck
Chair Folded’, ‘The Victory’ and the ‘Deep Stick’ to mention a few.
They are all pretty much the same, except for the way you position your
legs. In ‘The Deck Chair’, you pull your legs back until your shins are
parallel with the bed or whatever. In ‘The Deck Chair Folded’, you put
your legs under the man’s arms and he holds them in place. In “The
Victory’, you hold your legs up and out wide in a ‘V’ shape; and in ‘The
Deep Stick’, your legs are straight up and resting on his chest. Then
there’s…”

She stopped me. “Wait a minute! You’ve lost me. I can’t keep them all
straight in my head.”

“I got some videos I have back at the apartment that can show you how
it’s done.” I suggested.

She responded, “What kind of videos would have that in them?”

“You know, pornographic videos?” I answered nonchalantly.

Her next question surprised me, “Are they going to tell me if I’m doing
it wrong?”

“No. That they can’t do.” I replied. But we both knew the answer
before I said it.

It was her turn to be nonchalant. “Then why don’t you just show them to
me?”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” I began.

Don’t get me wrong, under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t have been
objecting. It’s just that it sounded too much like holding candy in
front of a diabetic and then saying look but don’t touch. It didn’t
occur to me at the time to ask myself who was the diabetic and who was
holding the candy. I naturally assumed that I was the one with the
‘juicy fruit’ in my hands. I thought she was too vulnerable and if
anything did happen, I would be taking advantage of her.

Before I could tell her why she added, “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re
both adults here. All I want you to do is show me the various
positions. It’s not as if we’re actually going to do anything. I know
you don’t think of me that way.”

‘Not think of you that way! Gwen, you have no idea how wrong you are.
Don’t you know you’re playing with fire here?’ I thought to myself.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch the videos? Despite what you
might have heard, some of them are actually very educational.”

In a very soft tone, Gwen responded, “I’m sorry if I’m making you
uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. I’ll understand if you say no. It’s
just that there are so many things I missed out on and I don’t want to
do so any more just because I didn’t know what to do when the time comes.”

That last part got to me. It was too much like a plea for help for me
to ignore… or so I thought.

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” I said reluctantly.

She breathed a sigh of relieve; and then, if that wasn’t out of nowhere
changed the subject, “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to
do but never have. Can you guess what that is?”

The truth is, by then, I was afraid to ask.

Since she was looking through the back door glass when as she said it.
Something told me I knew what it was.

In reality, if I’d had any wits about me at all, I would have seen what
was coming next.


Chapter Two – High School Friends

By now you must be wondering how it was that I found myself in that
situation in the first place. In order for you to understand, I have to
explain the events leading up to that night.

I met Gwendolyn thirty-three years ago. We went to high school
together; and, like the young school boy I was, I fell hopelessly in
love with her the moment I laid eyes on her.

Both our parents were Catholics and sent us to “Saint Augustine’s School
for The Chaste and Pious Youth”. In case you couldn’t tell by the name,
it’s a parochial school. We were sent there for entirely different
reasons. My parents sent me there to keep me out of trouble; Gwen’s
sent her there because they wanted her to keep the virginity and have
the benefits of a ‘morally sound education’.

We only dated a few times and, because of the circumstance, I never had
a chance to kiss her. I guess that’s to be expected when your date is
being chaperoned by a member of the girl’s family. It was Gwen’s
misfortune that she was forced to have her older brother Jimmy accompany
her on dates.

I remember to this day arriving at her house for our first date. We
were all standing there in the living room, Gwen, her bother Jimmy, and
her parents. Jimmy was laughingly hysterically like a hyena while under
the watchful eye of their parents; Gwen was forced to say to me very
formally… “Joel Johnson, I want you to know that I’m a good catholic
girl and I’m saving myself for my husband. Don’t try anything fresh
with me or God will strike you down.” Then Jimmy added, “And after that
I’ll break your arm!”

God it must have been humiliating for her!

Jimmy wasn’t really bad at all. He even was kind enough to remain a
discrete distance from us. Still, I know it was embarrassingly
uncomfortable for Gwen every time we dated. After the humiliation of
our first day, I wondered if she’d ever see me again. To my elation,
she did.

Things didn’t work out the way I expected them to though because before
I had a chance to tell her how I felt about her, Gwen’s parents arranged
for her to meet Patrick ‘Patty’ Doherty. Patty, in case you haven’t
already guessed from his name, was the descendant of Irish emigrants.
He too was devoutly Catholic. As strange as it seems now, even though
it was an arranged courtship, Gwen fell for him like a ton of bricks and
thus ended my dreams of ever being with her.

Anyway, after high school, Patty and Gwen were married. Also about the
same time, Patty and I both went on to college. He went on to the local
college and majored in education; and, Gwen assumed her new role of
housewife. My parents wanted me to go to Norte Dame; but, after four
years of parochial school, I was in no hurry to go to another one. So,
I decided to stay in the south and work on a B.B.A. at the University of
Georgia.

A little over three years later, and about the same time, Patty and I
both graduated from college. Patty took a job as a high school teacher;
and then, he and Gwen moved out of town and into the county. Except
for church, I didn’t see her much after that.

Similar to Patty, I also got a job after college. The difference was I
went to work as an entry level manager for one of the local banks.

One year after I graduated college, I got married. My first wife,
Jenny, became pregnant. After which, she promptly ran off with the
baby’s father.

A divorce and five years later, I married my second wife Mona. Ten
years into that relationship, out of the blue, Mona started harping on
me about how unfulfilled she felt as a woman. At the time, I thought it
had something to do with the fact that she wanted to have a baby.

I tried for the next two years to give her one. As things went, after
more failed attempts than I can count, Mona began accusing me of having
an affair.

I wasn’t and told her so; she called me a liar; I told her she was
behaving like a paranoid bitch; and, before I knew what had happened I
was divorced again.

Personally, in retrospect, from the way she’d had been acting at the
time I think Mona was going through ‘The Change of Life’ and wouldn’t
have been happy even if I had managed to give her what she wanted. Then
again, maybe she’d just tired of me? I don’t know. One thing I do
know, when her lawyer hit me up for alimony, I wished I had been
sleeping around on her. At least then she would have deserved the
monthly payments I was stuck giving her!

But that’s enough about my failed marriages.

Meanwhile, about the same time my second divorce became final, I decided
to take an early retirement. It was mid July.

That was also when Gwen quite unexpectedly, and no less tragically I
might add, regained her freedom. Patty, from all accounts, went out of
his way to electrocute himself. I’m not sure if he was suicide or just
plain stupidity. But, I can tell you this… if there was a game show
called “Dumbass Ways To Die”, hands down, he’d have to be the winning
contestant… posthumously of course!

Now, before you start telling me how insensitive you think I’m being,
let’s play a little game of our own. If you know any adults that are
stupid enough to try and pry bread out of a toaster with butter knife
while said toaster is still plugged into the wall, move to the other
side of the room. If you don’t, stay where with me on this side of the
room. Where are you standing? See my point?

I often wonder if the coroner debated whether to list the cause of death
as “Suicide By Toaster” or “Terminal Stupidity”! In the final analysis,
it really doesn’t matter. Dead is dead, stupid or not.

Looking back on it, the first day I meet him I remember thinking how
poor old Patty was an odd sort of fellow; and, if you’d asked me then, I
would have told you that I couldn’t put it into words. It doesn’t make
much sense does it? Well, at the time, it didn’t to me either. Little
did I know then how right I was.

Anyway, as you can imagine, or maybe you can’t yet, it wasn’t that much
of a surprise to me when I found out he was dead under somewhat bizarre
circumstances.

I was out of town visiting relatives when Patty checked out of this
world and into the Hotel Hereafter. When I returned home, it was to
find that Gwen had left a voicemail on my machine telling me about it.
By the time I heard about his trip from our world to the next, the
funeral was over, it was old news, and Patty himself had become just one
more footnote in ‘The Cosmic Journal of The Bizarre’.

Even so, I immediately called her to express my condolences. After
listening to her a few minutes, I could tell that she didn’t feel like
talking about it. So, I decided not to pay her the customary ‘post
mortem’ visit.

My heart ached for her; but, I’m sure it was nothing compared to the
pain Gwen was going through. What else could I do? Sometimes, people
need time to adjust to change; and, the loss of a loved one is the
biggest change a person can go through.

Three days later, I was happy when I received a call from Gwen asking me
if I could help her move some of “Patty’s’ things into storage. It was
a sign she was moving on with her life.

I went to see her the next day. When Gwen opened the door, I stood
there in shock! She was beautiful. Now I won’t lie to you and tell you
that she looked the same way she did back in high school after
thirty-three years. To tell the truth, she looked better. She had
changed her hair color from brunette to what I believe is chestnut.
Certainly, she did not younger, not at the age of forty-eight; but she
definitely looked better.

You see back in high school Gwen was, and looked like, a young girl.
She was a little bit too skinny, still had her braces on, and hadn’t
filled out yet. But the woman that met me at the door was none of
these. She was fully developed, had perfect teeth, wonderful skin tone
and was curvy everywhere that it counts. Her arms and legs were taut and
firm, yet still very feminine and sexy… all this in stark contrast to me!

Too many years sitting behind a desk hadn’t been as kind to me. I was
about twenty pounds overweight and while not balding, beginning to
develop gray on the roof. My friends tried to tell me it made me look
distinguished, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Me, I thought it made
me look old. I’ve never been what I considered a handsome man, but the
women seem to think otherwise. To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t
look bad; I’m just not as good looking as I’d like.

As we started working, it became obvious to me that Gwen wasn’t as
‘broken up’ by Patty’s death as I first thought.

Curiosity got the best of me and finally I got up the nerve to ask her
about it. I remember we were taping up a box of Patty’s clothes at the
time…

“Gwen, don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t seem as upset as I
thought you’d be? Was being married to him that bad?”

As I pulled the roll of tape over the box top, she replied, “I’m feel
ashamed to say it, but in a way, it’s a relief.”

“He wasn’t abusing you was he?” I asked.

She pressed the tape to the box and answered, “No, it was nothing like
that. For the most part, he was a good provider and, in his way, he
tried to be a good husband. It’s just that…”

Gwen seemed hesitate to speak and, for a few seconds, I thought she was
going to cry. Then she looked at me and with tears in her eyes said,
“If you don’t mind. I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

The subject was dropped and we spent the rest of the day moving Patty’s
things to storage.

When we were done, she insisted on taking me to dinner for helping her.
That night we got reacquainted, and even though we avoided the subject
of Patty, caught up on old times.

You need to understand that, while Gwen and I had kept in touch with
each other during the twenty-four year period following high school, we
both did our best to maintain a respectful distance. I think we both
secretly knew that we still harbored feeling for each other; but, we
felt we owed it to our spouses to do the right thing.

However, with Mona out of the picture and Patty gone, we could be
friends again.

Since we both had plenty of free time on our hands, rather than be
alone, we started going places together. Sometimes we’d go shopping,
other times it would be an errand. It wasn’t really dating, more like
socializing with a friend. But, whatever you want to call it, one thing
was sure, we were definitely becoming closer.


Chapter Three – The Party

Mona ended up getting the house in my second divorce, too bad she found
out later that the foundation was cracking from the sink hole under the
house.

I was forced to move into a cheesy one-room ‘efficiency’ apartment. It
was tiny, the rent was too high and I hated it! So, when I retired, one
of the first things I did was buy a house. I was lucky enough to find
one, with a pool, at a price I was willing to pay. The timing couldn’t
have been better.

It was also my good fortune that the closing conveniently occurred in
the last week of September.

Summer was ending and, even though I had just started moving in, I
decided to throw a house warming-pool party before the cold weather set
in. I couldn’t have chosen a better time; the forecast had called for
unseasonably warm temperatures that week and that was perfect for a pool
party.

I made up a list of people to invite. At the top of the list was Gwen
and below her were the names of eight of my closest friends. Once it
was completed, I began inviting them over.

I was elated when Gwen accepted my invitation and couldn’t wait to see her.

The second name on the list was Bobbie Rucker.

I called her and she answered the phone…

“Hey Joey, what’s up?” She said cheerfully.

I asked casually, “Got any plans this Saturday?”

I used to work with Bobbie and we had a ‘special’ relationship that went
well beyond the workplace. It also continued even after I retired.

“Nope, I’m totally free. Why, do you want me to move in or are you just
horny?” Now do you understand what I meant by ‘special’?

Somberly, I told her, “Wet ink, remember?” I was referring to my most
recent divorce.

“I’m having a party. Want to come?”

“Is there going to be anyone eligible there or should I bring a date?”
She asked.

Jokingly, I replied, “Well, that depends. What are you dating this
week, men or women?”

“Men!” Bobbie exclaimed, “Aren’t you ever going to let me forget about
Vegas?”

Laughing, I said, “Hey, I’m not the one who got drunk and picked up a
stripper. “

“How was I supposed to know ‘he’ was a woman in drag?” She asked
defensively. “Besides, you’re just mad because her dick was bigger than
yours!”

I reminded her, “Yeah, but at least mine is real! And while we’re on
the subject, I don’t remember you complaining that night while I was
fucking you.”

“Was that you inside me at the time? No wonder I can’t recall what
happened. Then again, that might be because there wasn’t much to remember.”

I retorted, “What was it you said? Oh, now I remember. Tell me if I
got it right. I think it was… ‘OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!’ Does that
sound familiar?”

“Very funny!” Bobbie said giggling.

Then I asked, “But seriously though, think you can make it?”

She said she would come; and, after a few minutes of chit-chat, I told
her that the party was to begin at 12:00 noon.