Tillamook, Oregon: Sunday night-real time-present day

As I began to undress, I was aware that Karen was standing about 6 feet away and apparently fixated on the process of my disrobing. I glanced over my shoulder at her and asked her if she was going to get ready to shower. She gave no response, other than to stare at me so, after I finished putting my clothes away, I walked to the side of the bed that she was standing next to and I put my arms around her and said “Would you like me to help you, Karen honey?” She leaned her head against my chest and looking down, rather than up at me, she said in almost a whisper, tinged with dread, “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m ugly.” If we were to make any progress, I really had to be honest with her, not ‘brutally honest’ mind you, but a frankness that meant she was going to need to start expecting to hold up her end of getting to the bottom of her problems. I lightly said, “I have already looked at you, Karen, and I think that you’re attractive. You have a nice curvaceous body and I would go so far as to say that you’re voluptuous. (Even though she looked to be about 40 pounds overweight, it was spread out well) Your face has attractive features. It’s your attitude that some might consider ugly. Do you know what I mean, when I say that?” She was clearly interested, because she made eye contact and she wanted to hear my opinion, as she uttered, “No. What is it?”

I had to pull this off or I would only contribute to her spiraling depression, so I switched up and made a gamble, “You know, Karen, children have to be taught how not to like themselves, because life is usually so exciting and adventuresome for kids that, all things considered, they don’t usually have time to feel sorry for themselves. Now in my still limited understanding of your particular circumstances, perhaps you didn’t get that much positive feedback as you were growing up. But you know what? We start fresh every day, so there’s something I want you to start saying to yourself every time that you look at yourself in the mirror. Can you guess what that is?” She looked up at me with wide eyed anticipation and slowly shook her head. I whispered to her, “First we need to peel away these clothes to see just how beautiful you really are.” And with that I began to gently undress her. Her top was a sweatshirt, which was easy to get up over her head. Her bra was at least a size to small, because it didn’t contain her large firm breasts very well and it had to be uncomfortable to wear. Once I had freed her of that imperfection, she really did have a great set of breasts. She still had a pair of jeans and loafers on, but I took this opportunity to hug her tight to me and gently rub her back. Then I turned her around so that she could see herself in Ann’s full length mirror and putting my lips to her ear said, “Look at that gorgeously sexy woman in that mirror. She’s got new friends and she’s gonna come out of her cocoon and pretty soon she’s gonna have handsome men asking her for a date.” I watched her look at herself, perhaps, for the first time in a long time with something a little more than self loathing. I quickly got her shoes off, got her jeans down and had her step out of them, so that she only had on a pair of panties that had seen better days. “Pull down your panties honey.” I said gently and even though she was obviously embarrassed by this point, she complied; as I bent down to help her step out of them, she balanced herself on my shoulder with her hand. I rose to my feet and gave her another hug and I lingered a while stroking her back and neck; this was the first time that we were fully naked in each others arms. I got behind her once more and I pointed her at the mirror again, and I began to tell her, “Karen you really are a very beautiful woman. Say this out loud to yourself: Oh god, I really am pretty; wow, I’m sexy too.” She giggled as though it was a cheap trick. But I whispered in her ear, “Say it Karen,” and then I reached around her and cupped both of her 38 D breasts and looked in the mirror at her and said, “Now you hold them and say, I have nice titties.” An interesting smile began to etch its way across her face as she held her breasts and began to whisper, “I…I have…nice titties”. And I urged her again, “Say what I told you the first time honey; say oh god I really am pretty; wow, I’m sexy too. SAY It!” This was the first time that I had issued any type of command to her. She hesitated momentarily and then in something of a trance said, “Oh god…I’m really pretty…and you think I look sexy, Jim?” I ignored her question and moved to reinforce more of the positive. I slowly ran my hands down to her hips and said, “Say I have sensuously voluptuous hips, Karen. Now put your hands where my hands are; that’s good, now slowly rub your hips and say it for me now.” As she began run her hands over her hips, a hint of satisfaction that was yet only a gleam in her eyes was still detectable as she said, “What did you say my hips are?” “Sensuously voluptuous”, I whispered. “What does that really mean, Jim?” She honestly wondered.

I like women. I like every part about them, even the cyclical mood swings and feminine emotions. I like this because of the contrast to my own personality, which is pretty even keeled, but also because women are more sensual than men, to me at least. Ann can always count on me; I am always there for her and that frees her from the stress of trying control her roller coaster. Yes, some women have greater mood swings than others; some are just as even keeled as men, if not more. On the other hand, and I am speaking in generalities. Ann has helped me see some of her perspective, at least sexually in the past (Chapters 19 & 25) and both of those experiences actually reinforced my admiration of women. As macho as we men like to think we are, we can’t take pain like a woman can; when we’re sick, we whine like little kids because our game is off! Women are used to not feeling at the top of their game all of the time, so they actually don’t whine when they feel ‘off’…just don’t cross them the wrong way during these times, or the shit will hit the fan! The point, you ask? In order to answer Karen’s question honestly and with conviction, that background was going to form the foundation of what I was to say next.

I kneeled in front of her and said, “Your hips frame two very important parts of you, honey.” I softly outlined her pubic triangle and the reached in to softly touch her vulva, continuing, “Your pussy is hidden from view, other than part of this sumptuous little mound here. Now turn around Karen…that’s it. Your hips also frame these two nice round globes of your sexy butt…and they hide…” I gently parted her butt and softly touched her anus and continued… “your warm tight little back door”. I rose up behind her and slid my hands up from her thighs to her hips, noticing that she was beet-red blushed, and then told her to put her hands on the inside of mine and I guided her hands down and back up saying “When a man sees a woman with sensuously voluptuous hips walking toward him, his eyes take in the entire picture and then they are drawn to the voluptuous curves of her hips. Voluptuous means very appealing curves. Sensuous means that you convey an obvious message to the astute observer that you feel good as you walk and you also convey an appreciation of sensations as you walk.” She slowly turned to face me, blush receding, with a look of, perhaps surprise…and…of buoyed spirits, “I do? I didn’t realize I did that.” She smiled a genuine grin. Well she didn’t, but I wanted her to be aware of her body. I also thought, ‘fake it till you make it’ was a much better strategy than going through life in a self-loathing funk.

“It’s time to take a shower,” I said as I patted her butt and then I led her in and turned on the big rain shower so that we could both get under the shower head. I stepped in and then gave her my hand. She came in with her mouth ajar and a mixture of anticipation and wonderment on her face and got under the rain shower with me; she was forced to get close to get wet with the very warm water. I quickly washed my hair, rinsed and after I applied conditioner, our bodies touching all the while, I gently washed her hair in the same manner. Then I began to soap up her body, starting at her neck and then her arms. I caressed her ample breasts as I slopped her underarms well, going back and forth until she was well lathered and then I pulled her slippery body tight to me and worked her back over. I purposely passed over not soaping up her big butt and stooped down and went straight for her thighs, legs and paid special attention to her feet. This was all having the calculated effect that I reasoned she needed: It has been a long time, if ever, that she had experienced that level of sensuality. She let out slight, ever so slight moans, as she breathed mostly through her mouth in short choppy staggered breaths. I stood up to my full height and pulled her in tight and cradled her head against my shoulder as the hot water poured over us. After a minute or two I whispered, “It’s time for me to wash your nice sexy butt Karen and I deftly rotated to her side cradled her waist in my arm as I gently spread her legs with mine. My left hand slowly and naturally slipped down and clutched her entire vulva to hold her so that I could bring the soap to “bare”, as it were, on her big butt cheeks. As I lathered her, she slowly writhed under my ministrations until I came to my final goal…she gasped as my index finger traced small circles and then a shallow divot in her anus. It was readily obvious to me that very private part of her body was very sensual to her. My cock stirred from the purposeful slumber that my psyche had self-imposed on it and I let it gently slip between her slippery butt cheeks as I held her vulva in the palm of my hand, now wrapping my right hand around her waist whispering, “OK Karen now it’s your turn to soap me up!” She gave my semi-flaccid cock a slippery squeeze with her big butt and turned around with a smile and with enthusiasm and self-satisfaction worked me over well. She seemed to delight in washing my balls and squeezed my cock as she washed it and produced a genuine hard-on to her delight. But I was surprised as she washed my butt when instead of gently washing my anus…she stuck her finger up my ass and slowly finger fucked me as she also played with my cock! I had thought that she was too passive to have initiated that and in a moment I was fully erect although I really didn’t want sex with her tonight. So I had to find a graceful way to disengage what actually felt quite nice and preserve her self-confidence in the process. I slowly turned around so that she was forced to withdraw her finger and I bound up her arms and hugged her so that she could no longer handle my cock, smiled at her warmly and said, “It’s time to give you a good massage so that you can get a good night’s sleep. We are going to be talking a lot together tomorrow”. I had her pegged as an anal retentive and in a continual re-evaluation I might have to add anal erotic.

The house was well insulated and the duel-pane windows had insulated curtains so I didn’t heat the bedroom. The bed had fresh sheets and I opened her side of the bed for her and helped her in, then instructed her to lay on her stomach for her massage; we were both nude. I normally prefer to use a light massage oil, but I wanted her to feel the sensuality of the new satin sheets, so rather than a deep rub I gave her a deep knead instead. I started with her head, then neck and so on, my thoughts were that when I got to her feet, she would be ready for a good night’s sleep. I sensed that she was very comfortable…and then she began to tell me about herself. Even after the full body massage, when I turned out the lights, she kept on talking, well past midnight, about the intimate details of her sexual development. It was much more than I could have hoped for; titillating at times, perplexing at others, I was astounded at the level of detail that she revealed to me. Some details were appalling to me, but I only played the part of an engaging active listener, which many people mistakenly think is a great conversationalist because they remember that they loved our “conversation” and forget it was all about them.