AUTHOUR'S NOTE: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Congratulations on downloading my contribution to the Amateur Erotica Contest for BBS'rs! The following essay on pleasure was inspired by a file called Amanda.txt that has made the rounds at most bbs's. I have always enjoyed creative writing, but this is the first time I have ever had the nerve to let someone else view my attempts at erotica (doing it anonymously helped!). I would appreciate hearing your comments on my effort. Oh yes, I'm sure you are all wondering - I am really a female bbs'er (we do exist, really), and this essay is based heavily on personal experiences. Enjoy... Yours sincerely, Lisa Bonet Masturbating your lady (the right way) can drive her wild - and save the night when Mr Meat nods out early! Have you ever had this fantasy? You're in a tavern or a disco, and you see this gorgeous chick sitting up by the bar, alone. She's wearing one of those slit skirts that have become popular lately, and she's flashing a long length of smooth, tanned thigh in your direction. It's dark and smoky in the bar, and the music is loud and throbbing, so no one notices as you sidle up to her and gently slide your hand through the slit. She gives you a cool look, but opens her legs invitingly. Your fingers do the walking, and as you lean over her, smiling in apparent conversation, your finger-tips touch the edge of her panties. You feel a wetness there and she opens her mouth with a slight gasp. She inches her head towards you, looks up at you with wide eyes, and whispers, "Get me off - now. Right here!" You push aside the narrow band of fabric and find her clit with your middle finger. It jumps at your touch, and she reaches a hand up to your shoulder and clutches it fiercely. Beneath the clit, her cunt is sopping with anticipation; one finger slides in easily, and she arches up her torso to invite deeper penetration. Two fingers go in, and the knuckle of your thumb acts as a constantly moving pivot on her clit as she bites at your fingers with her pussy muscles. Her whole body is vibrating now, and she jams the fingers of her other hand between her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Then she comes, mating her mouth to your in a long and passionate kiss and drenching your fingers with cunt juice. You slowly withdraw your hand from under her skirt. She reaches for it tenderly, lifts it to her lips and delicately nibbles at the fingertips, tasting her own fluids. A fantasy? Not for me. It's a game that I play with my boyfriend every so often, and it marks the culmination of the many hours that he and I have spent mastering the art of finger-fucking. The fact that our adventures in digital diddling sometimes takes place in public adds a delicious thrill to the proceedings. We're not really exhibitionists, however, and most of the time when his fingers find my cunt we're in bed at home, just like ordinary folks. But the truly amazing thing for me about our rendezvous in bars is that, up until a few months ago, the phrase "finger-fucking" meant only one thing to me: It conjured up the embarrassing and painful memory of Ronny Rosenwald, my first boyfriend. We were both 13 years old, and neither of us new a clit from a foreskin. (Of course, being a Rosenwald, Ronny didn't have a foreskin, and I've got a feeling he won't discover the loss until he's about 48!). Ronny used to take me out to the storage shed behind my dad's shop at nights, and most of the time we'd just stand there, paralyzed. One night, however, he got an attack of courage. Suddenly lifting my skirt, he scooted his middle finger down my stomach and into my panties, giving me a nasty scratch under the navel from his untrimmed fingernail. Then I was nearly lifted off the ground by Ronny's none-too-clean finger crooked across my pussy like an ice-pick. The same sharp fingernail was poking me in my little ass, and his calloused knuckle had struck a jarring blow to my pee-hole on its way down before he'd turned his hand over to make the big hook. I felt as if I'd done a parachute landing on a tight-rope, legs apart! I yelped in pain, Ronny ran, and my poor little pussy felt sore all night and all through the next day. That was the end of that relationship. Consequently, whenever later lovers tried to interest me in clitoral caresses, I would push their hands away and encourage them to et-to-fuckin'. and I expect I lost out on a heap of fine orgasms because of it. I never masturbated myself during my teenage years (honest!), and throughout my early twenties, if a man's finger inched too close to my tightly clenched anus, I'd literally jerk it away. It was like a conditioned reflex. I hated doing it, but it was as if my body was out of my control, and it made for some anxious moments with several good men. It wasn't until I met my present boy friend a few months ago that I discovered the almost magical power that fingers can exercise over the openings of the human body. The first few times we made love, Michael would give me a massage afterwards. He has fine long hands - strong yet sensitive - and he'd take special care of my ass. It gets stiff from sitting in an office all day, and he loves to really work on the cheeks, rolling, squeezing and teasing them until they feel as warm as if they had been spanked. Once or twice his oiled fingers would naturally creep down my crack and linger around my anus and vagina, and one day I realized to my astonishment that I hadn't jerked away as I usually did. In fact I felt so good about it that I wanted more, and the next time we fucked I guided his hand down to my cunt. The combination of trust and sensual massage did the trick; from that point on the memory of clumsy Ronny's attempted finger rape was put firmly in perspective - a childhood experience to smile at. Finger-fucking is now an important and regular part of my sex life, and I consider myself an expert, at least as far as being on the receiving end is concerned. There really is an art to finger-fucking, but it's an art that anybody can learn, providing they have a willing trusting partner. The first rule of successful digital diddling is fundamental: Make sure your fingers are as clean as possible and your nails are trimmed. The second rule is equally simple: Wet is good, dry is bad. Sounds elementary? It is, but my girlfriends tell me that a lot of guys out there aren't too sure about it. Most men know that the clitoris - the tiny button of flesh located just above the urethral opening where the vaginal lips join - is the basic nerve center of female sexuality. But it's not like an electrical switch: You can't just flick it to turn it on. To begin with, the clitoris is often hooded by its own tiny set of lips. While protuberant on many women, it's a kind of shy and retiring little devil on some ladies and needs careful coaxing to make its appearance. My own clit follows the pattern of a lot of girls I know: It hides at the start of a sex session, makes a brief appearance about halfway through when I'm beginning to have my first orgasm, and then ducks back under its hood as I approach the big one. My man's finger can detect it and help it along through each of these three phases. But it wouldn't do much good if he suddenly and immediately zeroed in on it with his middle finger and manipulated it like a guitarist adding vibrato. Clits need lubrication, and, like asses, they don't provide their own. For me, the best lubrication of all is my own cunt juice. I usually get very wet very quickly when we start to make out, and when Michael first parts my legs, nine times out of ten he finds my vaginal lips floating on a sea of juice. Occasionally, however, I'm not as moist as usual, and that's when he gets things going by using his tonge. Then, usually when I am sitting on his face, he'll insert both thumbs into my cunt and blow and finger-fuck me at the same time. It's great! I like to have my cunt thoroughly explored with his fingers - first one, then two, then three. I like to imagine that each of his fingers is a tiny cock - but with the added advantage of being able to grip, bend and twist its way right to the top of my uterus. I also like to swallow his fingers with my vaginal muscles - sucking them in and trapping them for as long as possible. And when I'm feeling slavish and masochistic, I crave being on my hands and knees with my ass high and my legs apart while he thrusts his thumb into my sopping cunt and grips my bush with his fingers. When he holds on tight and moves my whole body any way he wants to, I feel utterly vulnerable and in his command. Sometimes he squats behind me and puts both thumbs in together - nail to nail - while each hand grasps one of my buns. Then, as he presses each thumb sideways against my vaginal walls, he digs his fingers into my ass and rotates my entire body a few degrees one way and then back again. When he's sure that I'm about as wet as I'm ever going to get, he withdraws his fingers from my cunt and, using them as blunt, inverted spoons, ladles the natural juices of my vagina out and on to my outer lips, thighs and clit. At that point, whatever he does to my clit is okay with me! He's built my passion to the boiling point, he's converted moisture into a flood, and he's moved the excess lubrication to where it will do the most good. Some women, at this stage, are all clit. They want nothing better than a steady finger vibration - East to West and back - that starts gently but eventually gets very rapid and very hard. From my own decidedly unscientific sample of my girlfriends, these are the women whose clits are large, protuberant and easy to see and feel. But even these girls need a new supply of lubrication now and then. You can't assume that one lube will do the trick. Every so often go back to the main supply - the cunt - and apply as much juice as you can to the clit. Don't wait until she asks you; if she doesn't need it, the pause will be a welcome tease. (Incidentally, talking of teasing, it's fun sometimes to insert a finger slowly into your woman's cunt after you've been eating her out for a while when she's really expecting your cock. This works particularly well if she has her back to you and can't see what you're doing. Then, if you both like domination games, you can tell her that she'll only get the finger until she begs for your penis). My favorite kind of clitoral stimulation is North-to-South, not East-to-West. I like the particular friction of my clit's hood going up-down over it. I find my vagina contracts and expands as this is done, and I get an incredible sensation of my clit being pulled in two directions at once - first by the hood on top, and secondly by the vaginal lips below. The way that Michael does this best is by using two hands at once. While one hand is literally finger-fucking me, and working variations on my labia, his other is busy on my clit and hood. Despite what some sexologists maintain - that there is no such thing as a purely vaginal climax - I experience two distinct waves of climaxes simultaneously when he does this - one from my cunt and the other from my clit, although I admit they seem to be related to each other. The varieties of methods and techniques you can employ to finger-fuck your old lady are limited only by your imagination. Fingers are incredible mechanisms: They can act as diagnostic tools to tell you cunt size and whether your woman is menstruating; they communicate to your mind at a touch how juicy she is and whether she needs more stimulation. The realization that you can bring your lover to an ecstatic orgasm with only your hands and fingers can act like a constant shot of adrenaline to your relationship. And if more men realized that they never have to leave women high and dry after climaxing first - especially on those occasions when the man is tired after a hard day and doesn't feel up to hours of humping - there'd be many happier homes across the country. For men who prematurely ejaculate (and believe me, there are a lot of you out there - ask any woman!) finger-fucking skills are nothing less than essential requirements. Once you know that you can be an erotic genius with your hand, you're not going to want to roll over and snore while your woman simmers in frustration beside you. And you'll never have to apologize or feel bad about coming in 60 seconds flat ever again. It's as simple as this: When your cock needs a rest, your hands are still horny.