We are proud to announce that the original version of this story is a nominee for the 2002 Golden Clitorides Awards . We thank those readers who nominated us.

This piece appears by kind permission of Ruthie’s Club.

“Brevity is the soul of lingerie.” Dorothy Parker

“So, what’ve you been up to in the Big City?” asked Mark. “Well,” said Lisa, “I went lingerie shopping yesterday. I feel profoundly, however, that you would not be interested.” “Are you wearing said lingerie even as we speak?” asked Mark. He certainly seemed pretty damned interested. “No!” said Lisa, laughing. “Are you not wearing lingerie even as we speak?” pursued Mark, pushing his luck. “Mark, I am not going down that road!” said Lisa, firmly. Her statements generally, by default, were firm “Now, focus, Mark,” snapped Lisa. “The topic under discussion is, ‘Lingerie: Is It Worth It?’” “Yes, definitely,” that great and good man replied unhesitatingly. “Creased skirts inadvertently clamped between the buttocks are most unappealing to the observer,” he elaborated. Well, exactly. Lisa sighed and nodded ruefully. “I take ‘lingerie’ to imply sexy, by the way,” said Mark, “otherwise it’s just underwear.” “Right,” said Lisa, raising her glass to him. “I was thinking of Lingerie. With a capital L and a capital investment.” She sighed, longingly. “Despair not,” said Mark, “Lingerie visible beneath insubstantial clothing is wildly more erotic than the absence of lingerie.” “Ahh?” said Lisa, intrigued. “What sort? Lacy? Mega-Victorian? Leather?” “Mega-Victorian does not—in general—do it for me, personally,” said Mark. “Maybe I’m getting old. A corseted lover, yes, wearing nothing else than high heels. But not for ogling in the workplace—where, face it, much of our ogling is done.” “Ah, see, now, there you are,” said Lisa. “It doesn’t do it for me, either. This may be not age but taste and decency.” “By a commanding lead,” pontificated Mark, “my favorite is insubstantial and lacy, visible through sheer blouses, and panty-lines—but not of the Bridget Jones type.” He shuddered delicately, and continued dreamily. “To rub the thumbs on the nipples through the bra. To see the flattened pubic hair through the panties. Ah, yes.” He drifted off, and snapped back. “Excuse me,” he said, blushing, “I must adjust myself here.” “So,” said Lisa, smiling, “Is it Lovely-Take-It-Off-Now or Leave-It-On-While-We-Fuck?” “The corset is Leave-It-On-While-We-Fuck. But, as we said, it is only to be worn in situations where we don’t go out on a date first.” “And that’s only occasional, and rather adventurous. Yes,” agreed Lisa. “Lacy underwear is slowly, slowly discarded until all gone,” said Mark, the distant look returning to his eye, “but she must ache for the discarding first. The absolute best is when she starts discarding impatiently and you insist on making her wait until you’re good and ready to do it yourself.” “Wow, you do actually know the rules!” said Lisa, grudging admiration appearing in her eyes. “You are surprised?” asked Mark, testily. “You thought I was raised by wolves, maybe?” “Heavens, no!” Lisa hastened to pacify him. “Not raised by wolves. Just… perhaps unacquainted with the rules for discarding lingerie very slowly.” “But we have laid this to rest now?” He was still visibly irritated. “Pardon me a moment while I swoon,” said Lisa sarcastically. She closed her eyes dramatically, clasped her breast (nice tits, by the way) and swayed and groaned on her chair. “Thank you,” she said, after a moment “Let’s move on.” She smiled expectantly at Mark. “Moving on brings us to the half-inch paintbrush and the little finger bowl of sweet sherry,” said Mark smoothly. “One paints sherry onto the lips,” he explained, “and kisses it off. Especially the corner of the mouth, to get giggly. We want to be relaxed.” “Then the neck,” continued Mark methodically. Switching to long, swiping licks to get the sherry off there,” continued Mark, “culminating at the ear lobe, where sucking and nibbling is recommended. If you do this too soon, you’ve blown it.” “More giggling?” asked Lisa clinically. “Sighing, mostly,” said Mark. “How to tell when a woman is aroused: lobe sucking moves matters on. All my women,” he gestured grandiloquently, “are instructed in advance by SMS to remove their earrings.” “Gee,” said Lisa, awed. “I had no idea you had this in you. I should have known, though.” Mark threw her a sort of Indeed, you should glance and pressed on. “The next bit is free-style,” he conceded, “but munching sherry off the belly works well. This is good because it’s a non-verbal way of saying, ‘I’ve seen how big your stomach is, and I’m not turned off by it.’” Lisa almost applauded. “That is Very Good,” she said, nodding vigorously. “From a female point of view, allow me to reinforce this.” Mark nodded graciously. “The woman is not yet born,” he expounded, “who is cool about her stomach.” “Amen,” said Lisa. Firmly (as you already knew). “A major hindrance in fucking a woman is to get the fucking woman, if you get my drift, to fucking relax, already, about her fucking stomach,” said Mark, bitterly. He was obviously thinking of someone specific. “I know,” said Lisa, all resistance gone, “I know.” She bowed her head once more as she blushed afresh. “The coda on this movement,” Mark pressed ahead, “is tonguing pools of sherry out of the navel. We move from the lower belly to the crease between upper thigh and pelvis. Do not stint with sherry at this point. Long, swiping strokes. Longer and longer, by gradual degrees towards You Know Where.” Lisa nodded. She Knew Where. “I build up for this by puffing quick little puffs around the navel and moving toward the target area, so she knows what you’re doing. We don’t want to spoil thing with sudden pouncings. And then mouthing, or lipping, of pubic hair. We want her at the ‘Get the fuck on with it’ stage.” “I didn’t think anyone did things slowly any more,” said Lisa dreamily, “Let alone this slowly. My word.” “At this point, she expects you to graduate to painting the clitoris.” Lisa nodded. “Of course,” the nod seemed to say. “Do not do this,” said Mark firmly, to her visible surprise. “She is wondering if the sherry will sting.” “Will it? Sting?” Lisa was anxious. “We’re coming to that.” Mark waved her concern aside. “Rrrrr!” she trilled, frustrated. “Instead, kiss,” said Mark, “starting in gentlemanly manner, as to an aunt’s cheek. Get steadily more forthright. Introduce the tongue gradually. When the tongue first swipes the clitoris, it must be possibly by accident. A gentleman must always give a lady a chance to back out. If you’ve done it right, however, some sort of audible affirmation results.” “Surely at this point she’s chanting ‘Please, please, please?’” asked Lisa. “At this point,” said Mark, “stop. Lie next to her, clasping her in your arms. Mouth-to-mouth kissing. Murmuring of endearments. Kissing away, as appropriate, tears, woes… Whatever she’s got. At this point, it may occur to her to pay attention to your needs.” “Does she get to drive the paintbrush for a while?” asked Lisa, hopefully. The paintbrush thing had clearly struck a chord within her. Mark ignored her. Men get very focused sometimes. I’m sure Lisa realized this. “Spend some time touching her until she gets the idea you’re trying to promulgate. Funnily enough, one is at once forcing the idea across and distracting from it.” “When she’s drawn her knees up a little, make a choice. To clamber on board now, or not? Let us suppose that it is the summer, and we have decided not.” “Let us suppose this, indeed,” said Lisa, wonderingly. “Slip gracefully to floor at the foot of bed, retrieving the bowl and the brush as you go. By this stage, she does not care if sherry stings or not. Apply neither too sparingly nor over-generously. She doesn’t like feelings of dripping goo.” “She doesn’t?” “Dribbling down buttocks, across perineum, towards anus? She does not. She is afraid you want to lick her asshole. You must reassure her by the diligence with which you apply your mouth to her genital area.” “I should think things would not take very long at this point?” enquired Lisa restlessly. “Moving on,” said Mark pompously, “The tip of tongue should not go so far as the perineum with a new lover and never much beyond that with a familiar lover. We kiss the inner thigh, the lower belly. We semi-finally discard the paintbrush and bowl, and clasp her thighs between our shoulders and our forearms. The gentleman has received the come-on. He may now exercise the teensiest bit of physical strength. Just to show it’s there.” “You don’t exist,” complained Lisa petulantly. “You are a figment of my overheated imagination.” “The licking travels up through the pubic hair and becomes kissing as we move up the body. Your shoulders induce greater flexion in her thighs and less, eventually, in the knees.” “Ah-hah. Simple physics,” said Lisa sardonically. Mark took no notice. He was in a world of his own by this stage. “Give her false hope of quick relief by moving relatively briskly up her stomach, and stopping to give due diligence to her breasts. Do not simply pay attention to the nipples. The lower curve is sensitive to subtle stimulation—as, on your parting way, is the area an inch or two above the nipples. By this stage, of course, you may let her feel your teeth instead of merely sucking them. But you absolutely do not wish to hurt her,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “No,” she said pacifically, and patiently. “That would startle, and perhaps frighten.” “Not startle,” nitpicked Mark. “But maybe frighten. The final stage is to return to where you started, with swiping licks up the neck to the ear lobe. And then, nibble her chin, and kiss her. This makes her open her eyes, so she can see you being friendly and good-natured. At this point, allow her to feel the tip of your cock butting gently against her pussy. Take your time here, because this is another ‘back out now if you want’ moment. If you allow her to think it through, and she thinks, ‘Yes,’ it’s much better than if you rush her.” “Ah,” said Lisa, “because I was going to ask. With your sweetie ready to tear the house apart with her bare hands, it will depend on her nature. Does she do deep-breathing exercises and return the favor with a long, luxurious blowjob, or does she climb astride and ride you into the sunset?” “At this stage, a scrabbling at the small of your back, or a clawing at your buttocks is a lady’s way of inviting you to proceed,” conceded Mark, “but, you don’t.” “You don’t?!” yelled Lisa, losing it completely. “So,” explained Mark, “you must ensure that, regardless, her clit gets a long hello from your cock. If you have done it right, her belly is tense and her pelvis swiveled forward. This allows you to back off slightly and run the underside of your cock along her clit. But you must be very, very gentle. It is soooo easy to get the sharp intake of breath and the murmured, ‘Too much.’ What you want is the sharp intake of breath only, which encourages you to retreat gently and come forward again. Do not overdo this, however, as your cock and, especially, scrotum are unlubricated and we do not wish to chafe.” “Surely at this point she is lubricated enough for seven at least?” asked Lisa irritably. “Besides,” Mark pressed ahead, “she is now ready. This is important because you went to the back-out-if-you-want moment, she gave you the green light, and you still didn’t. Return to where you started, with your fireman’s helmet nestled in her opening. Do not do anything so crass as to push. She must become aware simply that the nestling is increasingly firm. When you cross her threshold, continue at an even pace until you are buried as deeply inside her as you can get. Hold things at this point.” “You can?” whispered Lisa incredulously. “Of course,” said Mark. He seemed surprised by the question. “Now,” he continued, “This is the time to kiss. One hand should be behind her head. Not compelling her, but making the point that it has the strength to compel. A deep, lingering kiss. One almost breaks The Guy Code,” he whispered, blushing and mopping his brow, “by using the word ‘loving.’ But restrains oneself.” “Better that way,” nodded Lisa. An understanding smile curved her lips. “You may not proceed until her hand is behind your neck, too, or in some other way exhibiting attraction. This is not street-girl sex, after all. Pull back, slowly, gently, and relentlessly,” instructed Mark. “If she whimpers and tries to hold you forward, exert your superior strength, gently yet inexorably, to see she is denied.” “I feel I’m at a horror film,” whispered Lisa. “‘Don’t pull out!’ I want to shout.” “Pull back until she thinks you are going to fall right out of her, possibly initiating messy fumbling. But you don’t, of course. You advance again gently,” instructed Mark, unperturbed, “the merest touch faster and more forcefully than before. This time, permit her to hold you forward, if she wishes, for as long as she wishes. By the pressure of her hand on your hip, maybe, you can discern when she is ready for this.” “She knows you’re letting her,” nodded Lisa. “At this point, though, ‘knowledge’ is surely a vague term?” “And again, you draw back, and again you thrust forward,” tanked on Mark, relentlessly. “Your acceleration must be constant and yet as slow as possible, for you want to last as long as possible. It is imperative that she reaches her first climax before you do.” “This is a good pattern” adjudged Lisa, “although lasting as long as possible is debatable.” “We are talking of the first physical intimacy with a new lover,” stipulated Mark. “As you become more accustomed to each other, you will know each other better. It is very important to women to know they have a man who can take longer to climax than they can.” “Ohhhh.” Lisa fanned herself. Mark nodded, smugly. “Should you suspect, at any stage,” he continued, “that she is lagging, several courses are open to you. My favorite is to withdraw and return to licking pussy. This keeps her progressing to the boil while allowing you to cool off.” “Really?” whispered Lisa, “Nope, you definitely don’t exist. Which is too bad, all things considered.” “Once you are more accustomed to each other, it is fun to spend slightly too long on this, meaning that you get too far off the boil and are therefore required to use more vigor to try and catch up. But you never do, of course. Other options include inserting your calloused thumb between your bodies and stimulating the clitoris directly. It is now permissible to be surprisingly vigorous. Another option, only applicable to women whom you…” Mark paused, and coughed. And shuffled. And blushed. And looked furtively over first one, and then the other, shoulder. “…women whom you…” he croaked, “…you know…” His voice sank to a whisper. “…the L-word…”   Lisa started, dreamily, to take off her earrings.

Edited by Ruthie Herself. Thank you, Ruthie—you left a far better piece than you found. We would be pleased to hear from you, at FatherIgnatius@ANTISPAMananzi.co.za and SelenaJardine@ANTISPAMyahoo.com , about whether or not you liked it, and why. Thank you for reading us.

This page last updated 26th January 2005