The Poker of Amorousness

The Poker of Amorousness

Tuesday, June 11-Saturday, June 15, 1974.

"The Joy of Sex," I read aloud, mentioning my new textbook.

"Pretty basic stuff, isn't it?" Felicity remarked, "But let's start at the very beginning."

"A good place to start."

Felicity explained the tasks at hand: read the book cover to cover; learn every position; master them all. How? Practice, practice, practice, just like rehearsals for a play.

It reminded me of being on a junior varsity football team. You'd receive a copy of the playbook and practice it constantly.

Only this time, I was in the majors—and my coaching sessions with Felicity involved frequent lovemaking in different positions. I'd go home every day exhausted but spend my nights trying out all these moves with Zoe.

Thus began my sex lessons. They kept me so busy that I hardly had any time left for masturbation. Still, I knew I had to give myself at least three orgasms: one for my mom, one for my friend Sylvia Raleigh, and one for whoever I wanted.

Felicity called this "love." This idea that we choose who we want to have sex with when we're alone shows how much we value them.

Then we narrowed down to romance. This involved empathy, trying to understand a woman and trying to surprise her without triggering any defenses. Our planning was casual, with just Felicity and me chatting, and I put those ideas into action with Zoe.

Friday morning, before our alarm went off, I woke up feeling very horny. After a moment, I remembered the opportunity it presented. Carefully, I moved beneath the sheet and licked Zoe's pussy in the dark.

Since she had already turned and spread her legs, I easily accessed her. As I enjoyed the dance of her body and listened to her moans, I clung to her bottom with both hands. When she started squirming from climax to climax, I felt her wetness envelope my shaft. I climaxed in her mouth after counting five successive orgasms.

She sucked me completely dry before pulling me out and giving me a kiss. We shared the experience, our fluids in our mouths. I wondered if every man's genetic material tasted the same. I didn't want to find out.

After a shower and some breakfast, Zoe left for work.

"You've got a busy day, today, right?" I asked.

"Yep. Felicity is leaving for Chicago this weekend, so I've got to handle all these last-minute arrangements."

"So, your future mother-in-law is coming this afternoon, yeah?"

"I guess that's what you're referring to."

"I hope she has a good time."

My Friday afternoons were dedicated to seeing Sylvia Raleigh, my future mother-in-law. I'd been waiting in the reading lounge for her since 1:30 p.m.

A cute girl arrived at 2:58 p.m. to set up tea for us.

Mrs. Raleigh walked in at precisely 3:00 p.m. She looked fantastic in a sleeveless dress, concealing most of her cleavage and yet tantalizing viewers. What was revealed was plenty. A slit on her dress showcased her curvy leg.

I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"I should warn you, your emperor has no clothes," she joked, referring to my naked state beneath the table.

"I'm not really naked. See, I'm wearing shoes." I pointed to my heels.

She examined my legs and added, "And you're quite the beauty in your shoes, if I may say."

I served her tea.

"Thank you, Martin," she said. "You look amazing in your nudity. Have you been this way since I last saw you?"

I took out a compact mirror and a lipstick from my purse and adjusted my smile.

Felicity Raleigh, known to me as "Mrs. Raleigh" in my relationship with Sylvia, was a gorgeous woman with an eye-catching bust. I couldn't help but stare at her breasts, even while she was fully dressed.

After I served Mrs. Raleigh some tea, we sat down.

"What's the occasion for this meetup?" I asked.

"We're building a close relationship, and this is a part of that," she answered coyly.

I couldn't help but wonder how many other women knew Sylvia cared for them in this manner.

"Take a look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing to something. "Doesn't it ever lose its rigidity?"

"While you're standing there, no." I responded, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Oh, you're so kind. Listen, before I forget, I've got a present for you."

She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a package, wrapped in hot pink with a gold ribbon.

"Wow, Mrs. Raleigh, you shouldn't have." As I untangled the ribbon, I removed the paper.

"We didn't, actually. It's from a third party: Beverly Dumond."

"Beverly, Sylvia's friend?"

"Her former piano teacher and now her sex mentor as well. She wanted you to have this on Sylvia's behalf, though she's fully aware of it."

"I see."

"Beverly is authorized to represent Sylvia's wishes. After all, love and war are fair game."

"Be sure to thank her for me." It turned out to be a box, which I opened, revealing a leather-bound book inside. I held it up to examine it.

"This looks just like one that Gaia read at my ceremony."

"Exactly."

I flipped through the pages until I reached the title page, on which was written "Emmanuelle: The Pleasures of a Woman."

"I sense a theme. 'Pleasures' as in sexual pleasure?" I questioned.

"Absolutely. It's required reading if you want to truly understand Sylvia, her desires, and her ambitions."

"Which I do. Passionately."

"Sylvia adores this book and keeps a copy near her bedside to read from it every day."

"Then I will, too."

"The story follows a French woman named Emmanuelle, who embraces sexual freedom and embarks on a series of erotic encounters."

"It's a classic--the epitome of erotic literature, according to many. And I agree."

"Sounds like someone I'd like to meet in a secluded... bedroom. Oh, wait. It sounds like someone I'd like to be?"

"Exactly how Sylvia feels. Sylvia idolizes Emmanuelle and strives to mimic her lifestyle."

"I can't wait to dive into it."

"Let's read a passage together." She guided me to a section with her finger. I opened to that page and began reading out loud:

"She was lying on her side, with her legs arranged forward, while the man held her by the hips from behind. He slid one leg between the other, prompting entry with a smooth, compelling insertion that was facilitated by the man's hard penis and Sylvia's moist skin."

"It's beautifully written, Mrs. Raleigh!"

"Yes, and it's hot as hell! This part here is particularly noteworthy."

I continued reading: "She held back her orgasm, not worrying or frustrated about it, because she had trained herself... to prolong the pleasure of anticipation. Even greater than the climax itself, she loved the escalating intensity of her eroticism, which she knew so well how to achieve during private moments, using her own hands to sketch patterns on her sensitive clitoris for hours, refusing to succumb to her own flesh's urges, until eventually the pressure of her sensuality overcame her. The ecstasy was as terrifying as the convulsions of death, but immediately afterwards, she'd be reborn in both body and spirit, rejuvenated even more than before."

"I have a vivid image in my mind of her reaction."

"Funny thing is that a film adaptation is forthcoming. In France, to be exact."

"Let's plan a trip!"

"And I pulled out another surprise. This is the actress who's playing Emmanuelle."

I gasped. "What?!" My voice chimed with excitement. The actress was unbelievably attractive, but even more than her physical beauty, she reminded me of Sylvia.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

"She could be Sylvia's twin sister!"

"Interestingly, her name is also Sylvia."

"No way! That's incredible! I think an American version starring our Sylvia would be exceptional!"

"I'm sure that's what Sylvia would propose. And I think the movie will make its way here within a few months."

"I can't wait to see it."

"How about you watch it with your mom? The two of you might spend a week lounging in bed."

"That would be a great way for us to finally take the plunge."

"I believe you and Caroline will be engaging in regular coitus long before that."

"I hope so. As I've mentioned before, I think about my mom daily while masturbating. Same for Sylvia, typically at least once per day--and often more."

"That's incredibly admirable, new friend. Now, have you utilized the photographs we left for you?"

"God, yes! Those modeling pictures, especially."

"Marvelous."

"Let's talk about the swimsuits, anybody?"

"Ah yes, and the lingerie, especially the bras."

"Beverly wants her to do some nude photos-which Sylvia can't wait to do."

"When and if that happens..."

"Of course you'll get copies, don't worry about that. The whole idea is to provide them for everyone who masturbates to her."

"Do you mean she knows I do it?"

"She knows that's what guys in love do. And she knows you're in love with her-which is kind of strange if you don't do that."

"So I should tell her about...that?"

"Yes, you should. At some point, when the moment is right, tell her how often you fantasize about her. She'd be thrilled to hear it."

"Tell her about masturbating?"

"Yes, about masturbating in her honor. You know how many guys do that for her, right?"

"I never thought about it. Gotta be a lot."

"Some of them she knows about, and some not. It's not surprising. The weird part is most of them never tell her. And she would love to hear it."

"I'd love to be one of the ones who does it for her-in person."

I couldn't help myself; I reached for my crotch. Mrs. Raleigh's face lit up.

"Mmm, you're so good at that, Martin! Keep going. I love watching a guy wank."

"I'll do my best."

"Just take your time. I'm really enjoying this."

"Mrs. Raleigh, she's used to seeing it, you know."

"Oh yes, I heard. But if you could do it directly in front of her, that would be amazing."

"I'd love that."

Mrs. Raleigh took a sip of tea. "Listen, Martin, Sylvia's pretty popular among the guys-you know, for her...yeah, her head."

"So she's really good at giving head?"

"I meant oral sex."

"Oh, right. I knew that. God, I can't help thinking about your daughter sucking my cock..."

"Did you say 'god'? That's a great idea."

"It is, but I'm not ready yet."

"I understand. Just slow down a little."

Mrs. Raleigh took another sip of tea. "Martin, have you and Sylvia had any physical contact, like kissing or anything?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was too scared to be too forward. I'm starting to get it, but before that, I was just so oblivious."

"So you never even showed her your cock?"

"No."

"Hm. You're raising some mixed signals there. She keeps asking you out, but then you don't make any moves. That doesn't make sense to her."

"I know. I'll try to avoid that kind of thinking now."

"Well, you could have shown her your dick; we'd be having a very different conversation now."

"Can you imagine her liking me?"

"She would, if you'd made a move. But at least she'd have a major crush on that tool of yours."

"I like the way you put it. I'm about to..."

She slid her cup across the table to me. "Put it in my tea."

I was nearing my peak; ready to explode. And god, she wants me to finish in her cup. Mrs. Raleigh wanted my semen in her tea!

My orgasm hit: "Ohhhh, Mrs. Raleigh! Oh my god, Mrs. Raleigh! You're so beautiful! So goddamn sexy!"

I accomplished it! I felt so proud of myself. I managed to shoot my entire load into her cup, without spilling a single drop. Not a drop of her tea spilled over. I ensured to extract the last tiny bit and gave it back to her.

"But it's for you," she mentioned.

"For me?"

"Cum is incredibly beneficial for you. You should consume your own as much as possible, or even better, someone else's cum."

I did as suggested. Cum and tea. It wasn't a terrible combination, let me tell you.

"It's excellent, indeed," said Mrs. Raleigh. "Better get accustomed to it. Sylvia is a strong advocate of the health benefits of semen. She says it keeps you young."

"I suppose that becomes my new pursuit, then."

"And thank you, Martin. You master the act of masturbation beautifully."

"Well, I've had plenty of practice."

"Now, let's discuss utilizing it to pleasure others. Your penis will be your key - for many things. For numerous partners. It will perfectly fit Sylvia's opening."

"Is getting her to open her legs for me, a non-issue?"

"Of course not. You want more, don't you?"

"I do, absolutely."

"A girl like Sylvia gets all the male attention she wants - high-quality male attention! She had different men every Friday and Saturday evening, and once every Sunday afternoon. (No dates on school evenings, of course.) So many guys tried to ask her out, she had a waiting list for a couple of months."

"Wow…

"I'm not saying this to discourage you - quite the opposite. My objective is… with your genitals, you'd be in the rotation. Not all her suitors have the necessary member size. But if it's five inches or more, they have a chance at a second date."

"So, I can satisfactorily do the job."

"As long as that's the case. You had an advantage in high school boys were concerned. However, as you've both graduated, things have changed. Anyway, Sylvia has recently been seeing a different guy weekly - and some older men. A lot of them are decently endowed, and more to the point, most of them know how to use it."

"And since you mentioned the past tense earlier, did you mean Sylvia is no longer seeing different men weekly?"

"Actually, yes… it's true the past few weeks, a couple of months now, she has... um... deviated her pattern. She's started dating someone consistently."

"I understand. Whoever he is, it's safe to say he cannot satisfy her."

"No, not entirely... it's complicated. In a nutshell: Sylvia deserves your crime-fighting phallus. Your task is to be worthy to wield it - so she'll end up with what she merits. Felicity's role is to educate you globally, for erotic expertise. My task is to prep you – exclusively – to be a Sylvia specialist. achieve this, and you might land what you desire."

"Which is her."

"Exactly. Comprehend, of course, that for Sylvia variety will always be a significant aspect of her life."

"And I embrace it wholly. Every good partnership is an open one. A lesson I've recently learned."

"Yes. That's been the way Duke and I have lived, and you can guarantee that Sylvia sees it that way, too."

"That's beneficial, Mrs. Raleigh. And it helps. You know, my issue has always been when I want someone so much, it's like my entire world is riding on it. I become nervous. Then I clam up. My brain gets stuck in that pattern."

"There are methods to break out of that, Martin. In fact, we'll talk about one. What do you know about role-play?"

"Well, I was part of Peter Pan. I was the crocodile."

She chuckled at that. "That's something close, I suppose... could be similar to that?... dressing up? Pretending?"

"Engaging in something like that, indeed? Acting, speaking as though you're with Sylvia?"

"That precise. Perform all the actions of a date with Sylvia, and your nervous system won't even notice the difference."

"And who would assume the role of Sylvia?"

"I've been informed we resemble each other physically and aurally. I can recreate Sylvia's quirks, gestures, how she thinks and speaks. None would be able to imitate her better than I can."

"I don't know what to say..."

"Say yes. Now you've got to plan the date. It's planned for tomorrow night. Come and fetch me - Sylvia - then."

"Tomorrow! That's not much time."

"It's ample time."

It's certain that Zoe will assist you. And I'm aware you don't possess a vehicle. I've gone over everything with Felicity. She's set up a car for your use. And one more trivial detail.

"I've got nothing to wear."

"Yes, I comprehend that you lack even socks. The issue is you'll likely need to put on some garments. Relax: Felicity has picked out something for you."

"Alright, it's a go."

"That's all for today," she remarked, rising from her seat. "It'll be enjoyable in any case."

She kissed me farewell. "You and Sylvia will have a little dinner. Perhaps watch a play. You take her home. You and she share your first kiss. She invites you in..."

She opened the door. "And then... I'll sleep with you."

Dressing oneself again feels peculiar when you've been in the nude for nearly two weeks. In a cabinet next to one of the side doors, I discovered the garments provided for me. The colours and style were distinct from what I would normally pick for myself, but, as always, Felicity knows best. I had to admit I appeared my best.

There was also a set of Pontiac keys hanging on a peg, and parked in the driveway, I found the Trans Am they belonged to.

Driving a new car had a novel feel as I sped along the freeway to the Raleigh residence. But the same jittery sensations pervaded my stomach as I took the familiar exit and turned right at the familiar corner.

I informed my stomach it was ridiculous: I wasn't really acquiring Sylvia, but her mother. Unlike every other date I'd ever been on, this one was guaranteed to be fulfilled. Mrs. Raleigh had even promised me a romantic encounter later tonight—as Sylvia, of course.

I parked in front and annouced my presence by ringing the doorbell. A moment later, the door swung open wide, and for a second, I felt similar to the victim of a cruel prank: I faced from door to door real Sylvia. But I knew that couldn't be.

"Hi, Martin," she said, Anne in Sylvia's guise. The result was incredible, mostly due to the hair style and the chosen outfits and some of Sylvia's characteristic gestures.

"Going somewhere, Sylvia?" her father called from within.

"Hello, dad," she replied. "I'm going out with Martin."

"Have a great time, dear," he responded, then "You too, Martin!"

As Anne stepped into the evening sunlight, it became more apparent that this was not an eighteen-year-old girl. I didn't need reminding: Anne had just perfectly portrayed Sylvia. What was necessary was reminding myself that Anne was the one doing the impression.

"Martin! Did you procure a new automobile?"

What should I answer? Nothing was scripted.

"Yep," I responded. "State of the art. You'll be the first person to ride in it."

"Wow! I adore that hue." It was Regatta Blue, as I discovered later. The colour did, indeed, appear excellent.

I opened her door and she took her seat in the bucket chair. I climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine. I switched into first gear, began to progress, and then shifted into second gear.

"I enjoy observing a guy manage his stick," she cooed.

Excuse me? Actually, does Sylvia converse that way on dates? I struggled to remain in character!

"Where are we headed? Or is it a surprise?"

"It is a surprise, but I'll let you in on the secret. You appreciate Shakespeare, I presume."

"You know how much I admire the Bard. Which piece is it?"

As if I knew one Shakespeare play from another. I had merely phoned to reserve tickets in panic. Think! "One of the comedies? It's probably."

"Well, which one?"

"A Day at the Races?" Using outrageous humour to stall.

"That seems a bit too 'Marxist' to me for Shakespeare." Aha! Sarcasm! Nicely done!

The advertisement was beginning to return to me. "It was something like Burger King's 'Have it your way.' Or some such."

"Do you imply A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

"That's it! How awesome is your memory?"

I simply couldn't help myself.

Oh, the expression on her face! Anne, in reality, breaking the proverbial fourth wall. She smiled, shook her head, and resumed her role. "Word of mouth is powerful, isn't it?"

"Yes, always."

Doesn't it, though? Shakespeare stole from the best. Of course, nothing that could ever happen in real life.

"That's for damn sure. Anyway, curtain's at eight. So, I thought we'd grab a bite in the meantime."

"Burger King?"

"You know, I wanted to, really I did. But I couldn't get reservations. Would La Dolce Vita do instead?"

"Have it your way."

I'll say this about the restaurant: we had the single most attentive waiter ever. His name was Luigi, genuinely Italian, and I swear I could read his mind. Officially, I was dining with my teenage heartthrob. What he saw was an uber-MILF and the world's luckiest son-of-a-bitch kid. He was clearly racking his brain how to get him some of that.

I left him a big tip, and she left him her number. Then we were off to the theater.

The only thing I knew about Shakespeare came from sophomore English, when we had to read Romeo and Juliet. What made the biggest impression was two days watching the Zeffirelli version in class--and jerking off to Olivia Hussey for months.

Reading the Elizabethan language had been tough slogging, and I'm sure I barely followed the thread of meaning, much less picked up on any of his double-entendres.

Thus, I was completely unprepared for just how filthy dirty the Bard's comedy could be--and I mean that as a huge compliment.

Live on stage, however, not much was left to the imagination. The actors telegraphed every naughty bit by gyrating their own naughty bits--or making lewd hand signals or blatant vocal inflections. At the time I figured this was some kind of sexed-up production, but no, it was just the way Shakespeare wrote it; raunch was just one more service he provided.

Anne-as-Sylvia clearly was up to speed. As we held hands in the dark (itself a great leap forward with Sylvia), at every risqué line--which came hot and heavy-- she'd chuckle or guffaw and squeeze my hand.

Then came the moment I'll never forget, this line: "He that sweetest rose will find, must find Love's prick--and Rosalind."

I felt her release my hand, and an instant later, felt her hand gliding along my crotch. She whispered into my ear, "Here it is. I've found love's prick."

She was laughing but suddenly became serious as her fingers palpated the form of my penis through my slacks.

"What the hell have you got in here, Martin? A jumbo jet?!"

Yes, it was pretend. Yes, it was contrived. But in our little play-within-a-play, this was the turning point. The moment of discovery. The seismic shift.

It wasn't the first time a date insisted I take her home right away, but this was for the precisely opposite reason. The moment the curtain closed, she pulled me by the hand, and I stepped on at least three feet as we rushed toward the aisle. Too bad for the curtain calls, as we were out the door and making a beeline toward the car.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" she complained as we hit the Interstate.

My plan had been to open her car door like a gentleman once we arrived at her home. Only, she had it open herself and was stepping out before I had even shut the engine off.

We got to the front porch, the spot where I always should have, but never did, try for a goodnight kiss. She didn't give me a chance this time, either. She had her key out and into the lock and the door opened in the blink of an eye.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, grabbing hold of my shirt and pulling me inside. Let's just say she took my look of wide-eyed astonishment as a yes.

Next thing I knew, we were on the living room sofa making out like horny teenagers--which one of us was. The moment had finally happened--at least within our simulation--my first kiss with Sylvia Raleigh. I had always envisioned something more sedate, my lips touching hers, but little more. It would be my Rubicon, leading inexorably to the eventual union of our bodies and souls, but everything would unfold incrementally. Over weeks, months, years.

Not so. She was furiously pawing my groin. "Oh, goddamn! Goddamn!" she muttered into my mouth.

"Can little Martin come out and play?" she purred. The question answered itself. She unzipped and I unbuckled, and I'm a flash my most popular part was au naturel.

"Ooh, not little Martin!" she gasped, "Hon,' it's you who are the Burger-fucking-King!"

"Huh?"

"Home of the goddamn Whopper!"

"Have it your way!"

"As I like it! Care to see for yourself if the rumors were true?"

"Let's flip a coin. Heads I win."

"Tails I win!" she said as she plunged my dick deep into her oral cavity.

Over the past few days, I've received oral pleasure from several women: Felicity, Zoe, Joann, Kate, Aunt Ginny, and Gary's mom - just to name a few. Each woman was exceptional in their own right in the art of giving oral sex. However, the technique currently being used on me surpasses anything done by these other women, as Michelangelo surpasses Stan Lee. It seems Mrs. Raleigh is offering me a full Sylvia experience - including everything beyond oral. To be honest, it's like I'm in blowjob heaven!

How this woman managed to keep me from climaxing, I'm not sure, but she definitely knew how to control my penile equipment using only her mouth and tongue. She exhibited complete mastery over our sexual collaboration, including knowing when to proceed to the next level.

"Bedroom time," Mrs. Raleigh announced. House rules dictated that anything past second base could take place in the living room. However, scoring actual runs required a trip to the bedroom.

She grabbed my hand and led me away. I had just enough time to hide my phallus, though not enough to zip it up.

We walked through the family room where Dr. Raleigh was sitting and reading.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Mrs. Raleigh called out as we left.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he replied.

"Goodnight, Dr. Raleigh," I too said.

"Goodnight, Martin," he added, just as we rounded the corner.

"Oh, Martin?" Dr. Raleigh called out.

I popped my head back into the living room. "Yes, sir?"

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Over easy, please."

With that, I was pulled into the bedroom and found myself for the first time sleeping between Sylvia's sacred sheets.

Read also:

• My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
• A Stepmother's Varied Testimony: Volume 3
• Listening to Their Groans: The Complete Narrative
• Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2

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