Soon our life together developed a pattern of sorts. I would get up in the morning and go to school. Mora would sleep late, since she usually didn't have modeling calls until about ten. She forced me to study every night and stood over me until the work was done to her satisfaction, reading her books on philosophy and religion and scribbling tiny notes onto a scratch pad while she waited for me to finish. Then we would spend the rest of the evening making love.
Following her lead, my performance improved steadily. By being smart about the way I moved, I got to the point where I could fuck all night if I wanted and not ejaculate, at least most of the time. On other occasions my pump would be too primed, or Mora would move the wrong way at the wrong time, and I would shoot early. But it didn't matter anymore because we both knew that I could generally last as long as I wanted, and no longer had anything to prove. Often Mora would build up to a multi-climax, having one orgasm on top of another, and when that would happen she wanted me to come with her and not hold back to start again later.
My newfound ability made a big difference in my general attitude. I became confident and self-assured in my contacts with girls. I talked and even walked cocky because I really thought that there wasn't a woman alive who I couldn't please. Mora told me that my eyes seemed to say it, seemed to say, "Baby, you're looking at a man who can fuck you right up the wall." I think she enjoyed the change in me even more than I did.
I made an uneasy truce with my parents by telling them that I was living with an alto man named Al, and his wife, Mora. It was better that way because when my mother phoned, as she often did, she wasn't surprised when a woman answered. It never occurred to either of them that a sixteen-year-old kid would be living with the owner of that deep, womanly voice that always answered the phone. At Mora's insistence, I visited home on Sundays and went out to dinner with the folks. It was always a hassle because I fought with my father, and my mother tried to mediate and get me to move back home.
I told them that I was paying my share of the rent, and that Al and Mora were taking good care of me. Actually, I had offered to share the rent with Mora, but she would have none of it. My parents were pleased when I told them I was staying home and studying hard on evenings when I wasn't working.
Meanwhile, Mora had seen me through my learner's permit, which my mother had signed, and then my driver's license. I was tooling all over town in the MG and, like any new teen-age driver, I loved, it.
One Saturday we went to a Plymouth-Chrysler dealer on Van Ness Avenue, and I drove out with a new, canary-yellow Plymouth convertible. Mora had paid for it by check, and I replaced the cost to her the following week from my safe-deposit box, plus enough to pay for a year's insurance and the extra taxes she would have to pay, because she would have to declare another twenty-nine hundred dollars in income.
I still blew jobs three or four nights a week and Mora would often go with me. She would sit on the side of the room or back by the drums and wait for the breaks. It must have been terribly boring for her, and guests at the various affairs always asked her to dance, or went over to try to pick her up. But she never danced with anyone and she would talk only long enough to give them the brush off. During the time I stayed with her she never saw another man, and I never saw another girl. She demanded loyalty from me and from herself.
Mora believed that the close relationship between two people would break down if others were allowed in. She was completely free; she could have seen as many men as she wanted, but didn't. She told me that two people can't love each other when they're busy fighting feelings of jealousy and competing with strangers for affection. She preferred to keep our relationship pure. This is something else she taught me. I've always demanded the same loyalty from any woman for whom I've had lasting feelings, and given it in return. How can you enjoy a girl's company when you're wondering whose company she'll be in the next night? Or make love when you know that yours is just one of a number of cocks that's pushing in and out of the same cunt? Or kiss when you're wondering who she sucked off last? That kind of wondering destroys the good feeling and forces love to deteriorate into petty bickering and jealous tirades. Lovers should be as true to each other as a loving husband and wife. After all, the feelings are the same or better, only the certificate is missing, and a piece of paper never changed the way that people feel about each-other.
My lessons in bed never stopped, either. As time passed, I got all of the fancy positions that are illustrated in most marriage manuals. We fucked every way but standing on our heads, and I came to the conclusion that most of the positions are a pain in the ass, unless you're a born contortionist,
The books say the woman-on-top position is easier on the man and affords the woman greater freedom of motion, so the books are half right. The trouble is that most women are not disciplined enough to control their freedom of motion. They'll ride a cock like they're sliding up and down a flagpole, and get you off in no time at all. To prevent this, you have to put your feet flat on the bed, or whatever, with your knees up. This way, as she's going up and down, you can go up and down with her, to take off some of the pressure. Also, it helps if you grab her hips tightly, so your arms can help control her motions and also force her farther down on you to keep better contact with her clitoris. Most girls like to sit up on you, and even if you try to keep close contact, what usually happens is that when they start to come, in spite of your best efforts, they jerk you out of them at the crucial second. Then you're stuck trying to get it back into a fast-moving target. By the time you've done this, she ain't about to come anymore, and you have to build her up all over again. If a girl likes to be on top, Mora taught me to let her sit up until she acts like she's about to go off. Then pull her down face-to-face so she can't jerk it out when she gets so excited that control is lost.
Doing it doggie-style also has its pleasures and drawbacks. First of all, unless you have a real knowledgeable chick or a cock three feet long, she'll probably be jerking it out every few strokes. Secondly, this is one position where you almost have to keep it going in and out, which means that you might not last too long. Third, there's virtually no contact with the clit, except the indirect pulling it gets as you move, so you have to reach around and rub it with your finger, or have your girl rub it with hers. It's a great breast-feeling position, since the breasts are hanging straight down. Girls who enjoy it this way usually get their kicks from the feeling of being dominated, from being held from behind, from the strong, male grip on their hips, and the bestiality of the position, from being bumped and prodded, rather than from actual sexual sensation. It's okay for a few minutes, but I wouldn't want to do it that way all the time.
Face-to-face lying on your sides is a good position for resting, talking, and being able to feel each other completely. Again, you have to be careful to lie so you don't slip out all the tune. Also, depending upon whose leg is on the bottom, either the man or the woman will have at least one numb and tingling limb before too long. This can be avoided by the man putting both of the girl's legs on top of his, kind of like rear entry lying on your side. This puts the girl on her back, and the man lying on his side, next to her, with her legs over his.
Staying upright on your knees, having the girl lie on her side and bringing her upper leg onto your shoulder, then shoving it into her sideways is also pretty good; it allows you both to feel each other freely, and to watch it go in and out, which itself is a turn on.
Staying upright on your knees between your girl's legs and pulling her ass up in the air is also nice for a little while, for the same reasons; you both can touch and see what's going on. But if you have a girl who's a klutz, supporting her ass in your hands while trying to screw her can leave you winded and weak in no time at all.
After all that's been written about various positions and fancy fucking, there's still nothing to beat the plain old missionary position. It's intimate, it provides total feel of your partner's body, it allows you to kiss and love each other, it assures' the best contact with the clitoris for the girl and the best possibilities of endurance for the man. Assuming that the man isn't a complete clod, it's the most comfortable, and when either or both are having an orgasm it's the most satisfying by far. For human animals, it's the best position, and the one I prefer to use as much as I can. Anyway, the name of the game is making love, not proving versatility.
But there's another, more important reason. When most people start to make love they use this position naturally. Only after they have made love this way a number of times do they start to experiment with other positions. Think about this for a minute, because what it actually means is that they're getting bored with each other and seeking something to enhance their diminished excitement. At this point they have stopped making love and started playing a game, started trying to find new excitement to ease their sensual boredom with each other. I don't necessarily mean natural variations such as I've talked about, but am referring to the so-called exotic positions, where you're both twisted like a couple of unbaked pretzels. It's a shame, because it shows that what you originally had is gone. The love, the feeling, the nearness have been replaced by the capricious urge to experiment.
Old lovers and married people often reach this stage. Many people, bored with each other and seeking new forms to replace the honest passion they have lost, join swingers' groups, the Sexual Freedom League, or read books that tell you to keep a bowl of ice by the bed, so you can calmly shove a cube up your lover's ass as he comes. There are skyrocketing sales of sex lotions and balms for people who have lost (or who have never known) the wild sensuality of skin tenderly rubbing on skin. There are radio talk shows where girls phone in that they "do it" in tubs full of crunchy granola.
What they don't say is that they do it in Keri Lotion, or Jell-O, or oatmeal, because just doing it face to face for plain love doesn't excite them anymore.
And when the Jell-O and the ice cubes and the group sex also becomes boring, what then?