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 ï>¿A Course On Human Sexuality by NotHemingway

   College students confront sexuality - literally and figuratively.

   A Course On Human Sexuality Pt.  01

   My college has a first-rate psychology department, where one can study
learned texts on human behavior.  But book learning has its limits, so the
department prides itself on conducting clinical exercises that expand on
the material.  That academic rigor applies throughout the department, but
nowhere more starkly than in its course on human sexuality.

   All participants in that course have to agreed ahead of time to
participate fully in the clinical exercises - which they are warned may
require them to reveal intimate details about their sexuality and their
bodies.  Sort of an academic Truth or Dare.  Participants pledge to keep
what transpires in the class confidential, but enough rumors have seeped
out to clothe the course with a mystique.

   To entice the more shy individuals to participate (so that the universe
of participants is not skewed just to the adventurous), the college awards
double credits.  You pay for three credit hours, but receive six.

   At the beginning of the course, each student undergoes an evaluation.  I
was seated at a computer, onto which images of individuals of both sexes
were displayed.  Participants are to press a number, 1 to 10, to express
their sexual interest in the subject.

   An attractive woman, with a lovely smile appeared on my screen.  She was
dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.  Very nice.  I pressed 6.  Then the image
shifted, and this women's t-shirt was gone; she was wearing a lace bra.  I
still pressed 6.  Next her shorts were gone, and her bottom features were
clearly outlined by her panties.  I pressed 7.  In the next slide, she was
nude.  Small breasts, smaller than I like, and a shaved mound.  She went
back to a 6.

   This process was repeated.  Other women, some quite beautiful, some
plain, appeared.  Slowly their bodies were revealed as clothes were
removed. I got into the spirit of the exercise, and saved the 9 and 10
ratings for women with my favorite, shapely firm breasts and curly and
plentiful pubic hair.  If women had very pretty faces and smiles, I
rewarded them with higher ratings even if their bodies weren't spectacular.
Sensors attached to my body measured my heart rate and respiration, as a
corollary and check to my self-reporting.  And I was presented with guys
too.  I kept pressing 1 to reject feelings of sexuality until the computer
caught on and only offered me women.

   It was very pleasant to watch women's clothes disappear in a peek show.
I was disappointed when the session ended.  But it wasn't done just for my
titillation; the purpose was to create a database as to what facial
characteristics and body types generated the greatest sexual excitement. 
Later, this would be used when I was matched with a classmate in the
clinical studies.

   One of the early lectures involved the question of male/female sexual
arousal.  Few would deny that the sex drive in the young male is ferocious.
Men are easily aroused by the sight of an attractive female, or even by the
perfumed scent she leaves behind.  And that manifestation is readily
observable.  The penis is a reliable and visible barometer - especially
when not hidden by clothes.  But the female is different.  For millennia,
women were on a pedestal, considered to be pure and shy creatures, needing
to be wooed to provoke a willingness to engage with the male.  Our
professor asked us our views on whether women's sex drive was as strong as
the male's.

   Most of the men thought it was not.  But the women, demurely at first,
then more vigorously as others spoke up, asserted that women like sex too.
A lot.

   "I tend to agree with you," said the professor.  "But then why is it,"
he asked, "that in a recent study of men and women, 25 percent of males
reported masturbating almost every day, compared to 8.7 percent of women?
And even among men who don't masturbate a lot, they do so at rates that are
50% higher than women?"

   One of the females spoke.  "I'm sure the women responding to the survey
were lying.  It's difficult for a woman to discuss her sexual needs.  Guys
joke about it; guys consider masturbation as being manly.  But for a woman,
it's a mark of shame."

   Several women nodded their agreement.

   "So shall we find out?", the professor asked.  "Who's willing to do a
show of hands for who masturbates at least on a weekly basis?"

   There was dead silence in the class.  No one moved.

   "That's what I expected.  Our society is awash in sex, yet it remains a
taboo to discuss your own sexuality openly.  That's part of what we're
going to change in this class.  Your homework assignment is to keep a
journal on how often you masturbate - or how often you want to do it, but
don't, for whatever reason.  And if this class is to be of value, you need
to be absolutely honest."

   The assignment caused some excitement amongst us.  And I heard a few of
the guys acknowledge that they masturbated when they returned to the dorm,
thinking about the assignment - and wondering what their classmates might
be doing.

   As the lectures continued, we became used to listening about sex, and
more open to discussing it.

   The professor occasionally would question us about our own sexuality.

   He called on Dawn, a pretty brunette in the first row.

   "Dawn, when you compare your naked body to others of your gender, how do
you think you compare?"

   Dawn gulped, but answered truthfully.  "Well, I worry that my breasts
are too small.  Other women seem prettier to me.  And I ought to lose a few
pounds."

   "Do the other women agree?" he asked.

   Several of the women expressed how attractive they thought Dawn was.

   "But you haven't seen her naked, have you?" he asked.  "Dawn, would you
be willing to remove your clothes so we could judge for ourselves?"

   There was dead stillness in the class.  No one spoke; no one breathed.

   "I can't do that," said Dawn, with a look of terror on her face.  'I'm
sorry."

   "Not a problem.  No one will ever be forced to do anything they don't
want to.  But as time goes on, you'll find that you'll lose your fears. 
We'll return to this another time."

   Everyone resumed breathing.  But the suggestion that nudity - open
nudity - was part of the class was something we hadn't fully comprehended.

   The following week, we had our first evening clinical session for when
we returned to our dorm rooms.  We were divided into a team of two, a man
and a woman, or gay men and gay women with their own sex.  The assignment
pairings were predetermined, by that know-it-all computer.  As fate would
have it, I was teamed with Dawn.  Tall, brunette, with (I guess, by her own
description) small breasts, but otherwise a lovely figure.  I was quite
taken with her.  (The computer had figured me out well.  I wondered if she
had curly pubic hair.  Would I find out?)

   We were assigned to discuss our early sexual experiences.  The first
question was:

   "When and where were you first naked before an adult member of the
opposite sex?"

   I volunteered to go first.

   "When I was 16, I stayed a few weeks with my uncle and aunt in the Outer
Banks of North Carolina.  There was a stretch of beach where nude bathing
was permitted.  I occasionally would sneak off there to sunbathe.  But
really mostly to look at the women.  It was very exciting to me."

   "Were people looking at you?" Dawn asked.  "If not, I don't think that
counts.  Just being naked on a beach isn't the same as someone examining
your body."

   I was a little disappointed that my revelation hadn't been well
received.

   "Can you do better?" I asked.

   "Well, my first time was accidental.  I was trying on bathing suits in a
small clothing shop which had one unisex fitting room.  I inadvertently
failed to fully close the door so it hadn't latched.  I had taken off a
bathing suit when the door opened and a man stepped forward to enter.  He
saw me, saw all of me, and his eyes went wide.  He stammered "Excuse me",
and backed out.  I was both mortified and excited.  It even today turns me
on to think of him looking at me."

   I was on her story.  "Well, I don't think that counts either.  It wasn't
voluntary; you didn't engage with him in any sexual way."

   She laughed.  "I guess neither of us is very good at this."

   We chatted on, and after that first exchange, it was easier to talk
about our first boyfriend/girlfriend.  And our first time being naked with
them.

   When we returned to the classroom the following day, the professor asked
us how it went.

   Everyone agreed that discussing a sexual experience with essentially a
stranger had been easier than we expected.

   Next, we read a study on the impact of sexual pleasure on human
relationships.  Sex for animals is mainly for propagation of the species.
The female comes into heat, intercourse happens, then babies appear in the
Spring.  Human beings are different.  We come together sexually because it
is intensely pleasurable.

   "Why do you think we evolved this way?  And is too much pleasure a
curse, leading us into misadventures?" the professor asked.

   A number of students volunteered stories where they did very foolish
things in pursuit of an idealized partner - or even multiple partners at
the same time.  Everyone had some episode of folly, stemming from a lustful
pursuit.

   The professor gave us an assignment.  "When you return to the dorms
tonight, you'll separate into groups.  This time, it will be 4 people. 
Your assignment is to talk about group sex.  What drives people to violate
the cardinal principle of societal morality, that partners need to remain
celibate vis-à-vis the rest of the world?  And what do you think of people
who do that?"

   I asked to team with Dawn again, and she was agreeable.  Two others,
Brad and Jennifer, rounded out the group.

   We began by questioning whether any of us had engaged in group sex. 
Jennifer was the only one of us who had.  She was a little timid to
describe the scene but mustered up the courage.

   "I had gone with my boyfriend to his friend's house.  They had a pool in
the backyard.  He and his girlfriend were lounging by the pool.  She was
topless.  I had never done that before, but peer pressure and some alcohol
soon had me topless.  My boyfriend had a bottle of sun tan lotion, and he
volunteered to rub some on my back.  I lay down and he did a good job.  The
other girl said she needed some too, and he, gallant male that he was,
agreed.  Only the lotion didn't stay on her back.  He slid around to rub
her breasts.  The girl's boyfriend was feeling left out, and he came to
where I was laying.  He began massaging my back and then my front.  Before
we knew, we are all naked and screwing each other.  He on me, me on my
boyfriend, we went back and forth.  Even us girls dallied a little."

   She was growing excited talking about it.

   "We did it one more time, but then the couples drifted apart.  I've
never done it since."

   "Did you feel remorseful afterwards?" I asked.

   "I knew it was something I couldn't talk about.  I was raised in a
religious family, and my mother would be mortified if she knew.  Which she
never will.  I only told my best friend, no one else.  You guys are really
the first ones to hear of this.  But no, I didn't regret it.  It was
wonderful."

   We were all turned on by the story.  We talked a little about some
missed

   opportunities for multiple partners that we've had.  Some hints not
picked up on, some suggestions rebuffed out of fear.  I thought about sex
with Dawn and Brad and Jennifer.  But I didn't have the courage to ask.  No
one did.  We all returned to our rooms and went to sleep.  I know I
masturbated.  Likely the others did too.  I made an entry into my journal.
Yet another missed opportunity?

   At the next class we talked about the sessions.  Not so much the
details, just how the stories affected us and our view of the morality. 
But we were more open in the class than ever before.  The more we talked
about our sexuality, the easier it was to do so.

   Then the professor moved to talk directly about our bodies.

   "Society views the body in different ways at different times.  You can
walk around on the beach is the skimpiest bikini and no one says a word. 
If you wore the same outfit in the supermarket, they'd probably arrest you.
The writers of the Bible pinned their discomfort with the unclothed body on
Eve for her purported transgression.  But we know it's men's fears over
their ability to control their lust.  For your assignment tonight, I want
your groups to discuss nudity and its role in shaping who we are.  And I
want you to be brave.  Choose one of you to be nude during the session. 
We'll talk tomorrow how you felt confronted with the naked body."

   When the four of us met that night, we were aflame with the prospect. 
But who would it be?  How would we choose?

   We all looked at each other warily.  Brad suggested that he or I should
volunteer to strip, to save the women from that fate.  But Dawn said that
was sexist.  Weren't the men assuming that women's modesty was more
precious than theirs?

   I asked her.  Are you volunteering then to be the one?"

   "No," she replied.  "But I'll take my chances like all of you.  I don't
need special treatment as a woman."

   Jennifer agreed.  She said we should draw lots.

   We got four pieces of paper, all identical.  Three of them were blank.
On one, I wrote the word "Nude."

   The papers were placed in a bowl.  Brad drew first.  The paper was
blank.

   Jennifer drew.  Her's was blank.

   Then I drew one.  It was blank.

   Dawn let out a shriek.  There was no need for her to draw.

   We sat quietly, staring at her.  For a long while, she didn't move. 
Then she rose.  She pulled off her blouse.  She had a white frilly bra
underneath.  She unbuttoned her pants and slid them off.  She had on tight
fitting red panties.  She was breathing heavily.  We were hardly breathing
at all.

   Then she took a deep breath and unhooked the bra.  Beautiful firm
breasts, and not too small, with broad areola and prominent nipples.  Then
she pulled down the panties.  Her mound was covered with abundant, curly
hair.  (I knew it!)

   She was beautiful in her nakedness.  She sat down, breathing rapidly. 
"Start talking guys," she said.  "If I have to sit here naked, we better
discuss the subject." She folded her arms across her breasts, and crossed
her legs.

   We began talking about times we'd encountered naked people, or people
wearing inappropriate or revealing clothes.  And how it made us feel.  We
tried not to stare at Dawn, but it was hard not to.  But a funny thing
happened.  After about 15 minutes, we accepted her nakedness as just how
things were.  And Dawn became used to it too.  She unfolded her arms and
uncrossed her legs.  She accepted herself and we accepted her for what she
was -"a beautiful woman who happened to be nude.

   Then Jennifer made a decision.  "If Dawn can do this, then so can I.  In
solidarity with my brave classmate." Dawn rose and peeled off her top.  And
removed her shorts.  Then she stripped off the bra and panties.  She sat
down and faced us.  We stared at her full breasts, her curves, her round
buttocks.

   Brad and I looked at each other.  It was obvious what had to be done. 
We rose together, and each of us stripped off our outer clothes.  And then
the shorts.  Our penises hung free.  The girls stared at us as we had at
them.  We tried to continue the conversation but the outcome was clear.  I
moved closer to Dawn and put my arms around her.  Brad and Jennifer merged
into one.  We began kissing, slowly at first, then more feverishly, as the
sexual tension from the weeks of exploring the subject of sex exploded.

   I explored Dawn's body, caressed her breasts, her abdomen, her
womanhood. She grappled me, rubbing my back, my buttocks, then reached to
massage the testicles and the erect shaft.  We fell onto the floor and were
oblivious of the two other people in the room.  In truth, they were
oblivious of us.  Each couple pawed each other until we had intercourse and
release.  We lay on the floor, spent.  Then the four of us huddled together
in a mass, naked and at peace.  At peace with our bodies and with the idea
of nudity.

   The next day, in class, it was revealed that most of the groups had
ended up as we did.  Those that hadn't sat there angry at their own
timidity.  The professor congratulated us.

   "This was the outcome I was looking for.  Not sex necessarily, but the
acceptance of nudity without shame.  You shed your inhibitions along with
your clothes.  Well done."

   He continued.  "So Dawn.  Let me revisit a request I made of you at the
beginning of the semester.  Will you remove your clothes so we can see if
your view of your own body is accurate?"

   She replied.  "There is no need to do that, professor.  I now know there
is nothing to be ashamed of about my body.  We're all different, and we're
each beautiful.  I'm okay."

   "Dawn, I couldn't be happier with that answer.  Bravo," he said,
smiling.

   We're graduates now, but we often hang out together.  There is a bond
that formed, a bond knowing that we view sexuality in a mature way.  We're
at ease with our bodies.  It's nice.



   A Course On Human Sexuality Pt.  02

   College students learn of a workshop for sexual issues.

   I've previously written about my college's psychology department, and
its creative, interactive approach to teaching.  Nowhere was it more
creative -- or interactive-- than in the Human Sexuality program.  What I
haven't mentioned before -- until now -- was the clinic.

   We first learned of it when our professor addressed the Human Sexuality
101 class.

   "You've all done very well in confronting your own sexuality, and
becoming comfortable with displaying your bodies in healthy and appropriate
settings.  You're now ready for the next step."

   Hard to imagine what more could be coming.  We'd been naked with each
other and discussed sexual experiences openly -- and once created those
experiences.

   "We have a clinic, a workshop, on the campus.  Where people can come to
seek resolution of sexual issues.  Are you unsure if your oral sex
techniques are generating the most pleasure for your partner?  Women, do
you wonder if there is a difference in how you handle a circumcised penis
versus one that is uncut?  Men, do you wonder what parts of a woman's body
are the most sensitive?  Whatever the concern, counsellors made up of
graduate students will fully instruct you."

   I spoke up.  'Professor, I'm unclear.  What do you mean by instruction?
Like, a class on sex techniques?"

   "Carl, an instructor might critique your technique and make suggestions
on how to improve.  But we never discuss the details of what takes place;
everything within the clinic is confidential."

   We were agog.  We were trying to imagine what might take place.  Film
clips?  Written instructions?  Or would we literally "practice" the new
techniques?  If so, practice on whom?  Was he suggesting that we would
engage in sex acts there?

   "I know this may sound radical, but the clinic is a natural outgrowth of
the work we've done here in class.  It's very hard to experiment when you
have a romantic partner.  The emotions and the needs of your partner
normally don't allow for that.  And it can be embarrassing to display or
confess your inexperience.  A romantic encounter is not a tutorial.  At the
clinic, instruction and exploration is its whole raison d'etre."

   The discussion went on, but the point was that there might be a facility
on campus where we could go to explore sex -- in the name of academic
knowledge, of course.

   After class, the clinic was all we could talk about.  We broke into our
study groups, the groups having been selected at the start of the semester.
Each group composed of two guys and two girls.

   "Would you have the nerve to go to the clinic?" asked Dawn.

   "No way; I think I'd die being instructed in sexual techniques," replied
Jennifer.  "Unless the guy was really cute," she added with a laugh.

   "I'm sort of intrigued," said Brad.  "I really want to please my
partners.  Yet even when I ask, 'what else shall I do,' women will always
block the question.  'You're doing great," she'll say.  I think my
girlfriends are embarrassed to state how they should be pleasured."

   "There is truth to that," said Jennifer.  "I've never told a lover
exactly what to do -- even when he's fumbling around.  I guess I don't want
to risk wounding the male ego by suggesting he isn't a great lover."

   "And for sure it's a guy thing to want to go somewhere if there is a
chance for free sex," said Dawn, as we all laughed.

   The mystery of the clinic was a lure that we couldn't put aside.

   "We should all go together," I suggested.  "We'll make it a class
project.  Sort of like a field trip."

   "Sure, we can pack a lunch, bring some party favors, make a day of it,"
said Jennifer.  She wasn't serious of course; it was just a way of making
light of something that enticed us -- and frightened us at the same time.
We broke for the day without reaching a decision.  Just food for thought.
And food we chewed on all night.

   The next morning, Dawn sent a text, addressed to the three of us.

   "We'll regret it our whole lives if we don't try this.  When would we
ever again get an offer like this?" it read.

   All of us independently came to the same conclusion.  Go there at least
once, see what it was about.  After all, we had taken the Human Sexuality
class for a reason.  We couldn't chicken out on this unique exploration of
sexuality.

   But how to do it?  What would we ask?  Go into each session as a group,
or individually?  Would we be instructed together?  We'd already seen each
other naked, but this could be humiliating.  Did we have the
self-confidence?

   We decided to go in as couples.  Dawn and me first; then Brad and
Jennifer.  Dawn would say she was having trouble reaching orgasm, and ask
for help.  Brad and Jennifer would say that they weren't comfortable with
oral sex, and hoped to overcome that.

   The next day, Dawn and I approached the intake person at the clinic.

   "Hi, we're part of the Human Sexuality class.  We'd like to speak with a
counsellor about an issue we're having."

   "Of course," the lady replied.  "First, I need you to sign some
paperwork,"

   There followed a raft of papers that confirmed the terms of the clinic
-- complete confidentiality, but also a commitment to in good faith try
their solutions.  We signed.

   "What seems to be the issue?" the intake clinician asked.

   Dawn spoke.  "I am not being satisfied during love making.  I rarely
reach an orgasm."

   "I see.  This is a common complaint with the women we see.  I know we'll
be able to help you.  Is this your sexual partner?" She was referring to
me.

   I nodded yes, feeling a little humiliated at being labeled an inadequate
lover.

   "You'll be interviewed by Carlos, one of our counsellors.  Right this
way, please," as we were escorted into a room.  It had a medical
examination table, covered with clean white paper.  But it also had a large
bed, with just the bottom sheet on it.  No covers.

   Carlos came to meet us.  He asked us multiple questions, eliciting
information on the type of sexual activity we engaged in, how often, for
how long, exactly what was the sequence of love making.  It was quite
intrusive.  And all of it was made up.  While Dawn and I had had sex once,
at the culmination of one of the professor's more interesting exercises, we
were not lovers.  And for sure I was not an inadequate lover.  This was
just an exercise to scope out what the clinic was all about.

   But the exercise turned out to be more than we bargained for.

   Carlos spoke.  "Okay Dawn, our first step will be a physical exam, to
see if there is any physiological reason for your not having orgasms. 
Please remove your clothes and lie on the examination table.

   Dawn froze.  "Is that necessary?" she asked tentatively.

   "Yes, this is standard.  Are you concerned?  Do you want your partner to
wait outside while we do the exam?" he asked.

   Dawn looked at me.  To answer yes would seem strange -- we were
supposedly lovers, here for help.  We were used to being naked together,
supposedly.  I smiled at her and said, "Won't be anything I don't see all
the time."

   She glared at me, recognizing the lie, but also recognizing that it was
an appropriate role-playing lie.  She felt trapped.

   "No, it's fine if he stays.  But I think he should be naked too," she
said.  "To add to the authenticity of what we're doing."

   Damn her.  But that was only fair.  And I really would enjoy observing
her naked body.

   "Ok by me," I said.

   We both removed our clothes.  Dawn has a petite body, small breasts
although well formed, with broad areola and prominent nipples.  She has
abundant, curly brown pubic hair and a firm athlete's body.  I hungrily
watched her climb onto her back on the table.

   Carlos applied some electrodes to her neck, to her breasts, and her
middle.  Pressure cuffs went around her arm and chest, checking pulse and
respiration.  He took some medical devices and did a quick review of her
sex organs, looking for any abnormalities.  Then he took an electric
vibrator, and placed it on her chest.

   "This device is much more efficient than a normal male would be, but it
lets us check on whether with optimal stimulation, you can reach an
orgasm."

   Carlos moved the vibrator slowly around the breasts, then down to her
stomach, to her abdomen.  He checked the read-outs for her pulse and
respiration.  He moved the vibrator to her vulva, near the clitoris.  Dawn
began to moan softly.  Carlos moved the vibrator back and forth, rocking on
the pelvic bone, touching the clitoris then backing off.  On and off, on
and off.  At the same time, his hand kneaded a nipple.  Then he pressed the
vibrator against the clitoris and held it there.  That sent her over the
edge.  Her body tensed, and as the pelvis thrust out, a wave of sensation
spread through her middle.  She let out a cry and an orgasm swept over her.

   Carlos withdrew the vibrator.  Dawn fell back against the table.  "Well,
your response seems perfectly normal.  You are easily capable of achieving
an orgasm.  The problem must lie with your partner's technique."

   I stood there transfixed.  Without realizing it, my penis had risen to
an erection, as I observed Dawn's reaction.

   Carlos spoke.  "And I see your partner is capable of a normal erection.
We'll have to analyze his technique.  Carl, please lie with Dawn on the
bed."

   What?  Suddenly this wasn't as much fun.  I love having sex, but the
reality that we would do this while a clinician observed, taking notes, hit
home.  This would be weird.  And Dawn and I were not lovers.  One time
doesn't count.  I did not know her ways, what pleased her, her desires. 
I'd look like a fool.

   Carlos spoke to me: "As you and Dawn lie on the bed, I'll dim the lights
and put on some soft music.  Let me observe your love-making.  Here is a
condom; it's clinic policy that it must be worn."

   The attempt at creating atmosphere went nowhere.  Dawn looked
distressed. She was as uncomfortable as I was with having sex while a
stranger watched, taking notes.

   "Do you want to leave?" I whispered to her.

   "No, God damn it," she whispered back to me.  "It was my dumb idea that
we do this, so I'll stick with it."

   We got onto the bed, her on her back, me lying next to her.  I began by
rubbing her breasts, then clumsily tried to insert a finger into her.  She
tensed, not yet ready.  I lay on top of her, my erection pressing onto her
pelvis.

   Dawn squirmed uncomfortably.  I tried to penetrate her but she was
tight. I persisted but could only partially enter her.  She was very
unhappy, and it was becoming a disaster.

   "OK," said Carlos.  "I've seen enough.  You should stop."

   We were both relieved.  And then Carlos addressed me.  "The immediate
problem is that you rush through foreplay, not allowing sexual tension to
build.  A man can achieve an erection with a look.  Women are different. 
They need their arousal to build.  Please observe carefully as I
demonstrate."

   What?!  Both Dawn and I drew back with a stunned silence.  Carlos was
going to demonstrate?  In truth, we half thought something like this might
happen, but now that it was real, it was a shock.  A stranger was going to
grope her?  Would she allow it?

   Carlos pulled off his shirt and his trousers.  Clad only in underwear,
he slid onto the bed next to Dawn, where I had been a minute ago.  He
placed his hand onto her cheek.  He slowly massaged the cheek, then the
neck, light caressing touches.  Then he went to the shoulders, kneading the
skin.  He never approached any sexual zones, just letting her feel his
hands on her skin.

   Dawn began to relax.  It was soothing, soft and gentle.  She smiled at
him, and he continued slow massages.  Carefully avoiding the breasts, he
stroked the sides of her body, then crossed over onto the stomach, making
gentle, feather-like, circles.  Dawn made small appreciative sounds. 
Carlos moved to the breasts, cupping them in his hands, massaging them but
not yet touching the nipples.

   Dawn looked at him with doe-like eyes.  She was enjoying this.  I was
getting annoyed, maybe a little jealous, even though Dawn and I were not
lovers.

   He spoke quietly to me.  "Do you see how I'm building up the sexual
tension?  Notice that I've not touched the nipples or even ventured below
the waist."

   I didn't say a word.  I thought about punching him.

   "Now I'll begin turning this sensuous exercise into an erotic one," he
said.  And he pulled the nipples into his mouth.  Dawn responded with
little moans.  I wondered if I should leave them alone -- although she had
just met Carlos moments ago and this wasn't romance -- it was a
demonstration.  But for sure Dawn wasn't treating it as a clinical
demonstration.  She, perhaps unconsciously, slightly opened her legs to
offer Carlos unfettered access.  He reached down with a hand, circled the
vagina, brushing against the clitoris.  He continued this for a long time,
teasing her.  First touching sensitive skin, then running his hands down
her legs.  Then returning to her vagina, to the clitoris.

   Finally, he thrust two fingers inside her.  She was completely moist now
and entry was easy.  He moved his fingers back and forth, slowly then
faster, until she uttered a small cry and climaxed.

   "If you'll take your time, slowly build up the sexual tension, you'll
find that your girlfriend will routinely have an orgasm," he said to me. 
"Would you like to try?"

   There was no way I was going to put on a show for him.

   "No thanks.  We can do this at home," I said, although there was no
"home" here.  We were not really a couple.

   "No problem," Carlos said.  "As a clinic client now, you're welcome to
return anytime for a refresher course or if some other issue arises."

   Fat chance, I thought.

   We got dressed and left.  Dawn and I did not speak much as I drove to
her apartment.  That was my doing; she tried to engage me in conversation
but I was sullen.

   "I don't know why you are angry," she finally said.  "We wanted to find
out what went on in the clinic, and now we know.  And besides, he had a lot
of good advice.  He sure knows women,"

   "I'm good with women too," I said a little too defiantly.  "The
circumstances weren't realistic.  I felt intimidated touching you with him
watching.  It would have been different if we were lovers under normal
circumstances."

   Dawn smiled at me.  "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much," she
said, snarkily appropriating the famous line from Hamlet.

   "I'm just as good as that Mexican Don Juan," I said, although I had no
idea if Carlos was Mexican or from Ohio, or wherever.  I was just angry.

   "Well, why don't you come up and show me?" Dawn said quietly.  "Aren't
you as turned on by today as I am?"

   I was.  I had spent half an hour with an erection that never got
satisfied.  I was happy she took the initiative.

   When we got to her apartment, we tore each other's clothes off.  I'm a
little embarrassed to mention it, but I used all of Carlos' teasing
techniques.  Maybe as a result, Dawn was on fire.  And she teased me too,
rubbing alongside my groin without directly touching the genitals.  Then
almost by accident, she'd casually brush against the testicles or the
penis. She built up the sexual tension, until I was ready to burst.  I
grabbed her hand and placed it on the penis.

   "Please," I said.  And she knew what to do.  She stroked me, slowly,
then more rapidly, as I writhed beneath her hand.  I ejaculated onto my
stomach.  She kept stroking me, milking the penis of remaining semen.  I
lay back spent.  After a little time, allowing me to recover, we had
intercourse and I came for a second time, inside her.  It was the best sex
of my life.

   The next day, Brad and Jennifer called, wanting to know how it went.

   We told them the clinic was marvelous and we highly recommended it. 
Dawn told Jennifer to be sure to request Carlos by name.  I didn't
disagree. He sure knows women.