Free Show Me by Elle O'Brien

 
     
     
    Chapter One
    Dear M,
    I never thought I would be someone writing you a letter…but then again, I never thought I’d be someone who needed to write you a letter, either.  I thought sex was easy, kind of like following the instructions on how to put together a piece of furniture from IKEA.  Insert here, no assembly required, that sort of thing.  In reality, sex has become difficult for me…and when I say difficult, I mean horrible.  Why dance around it? Sex with a partner, or even two, isn’t doing it for me.  Not only is it not doing IT, it isn’t doing ANYTHING.  Help me, please, I’ve even lost faith in my vibrator, and that bitch cost me almost a grand. 
    Yours Truly (truly frustrated),
    Tired in Tennessee
    +++
    Dear Tired in Tennessee,
    A grand? Wow, you are tired. Now, to address your issues: sex should never be as complicated as putting together a piece of furniture, from anywhere.  Honey, if you think those directions are EASY, no wonder you’ve had such a rough time getting some that got you off.  Sex has no guidelines, no rules, no manual, only sensations.  So, you need to start back at the basics.  First lesson: imagination.  Describe your fantasies to me. Fantasies bring us into contact with what our body is asking us.  What is yours asking you?
    M
    +++
    Dear M,
    I do have fantasies, one in particular that always wakes me up in the middle of the night…
    I’m laying down on a bed and there are cool sheets beneath me.  I know I’m naked because I can feel a breeze over my skin and my nipples pucker at the sensation, urging me to stroke them with my hands.  And then there are a set of soft hands trailing up my legs from my ankles to my knees, soft, fingertip caresses that leave a wake of sensations burning through me, all pooling at my center.  When those fingertips reach my hips, they come in and then brush down again, missing my heat and massaging the inside of my thighs.  Just as I’m about to cry out, to beg for more, my breasts are being molded, weighed, fondled…and the hands there are different, rougher than the ones still stroking my thighs.  Then I feel breath on my neck, lips, tongue, trailing paths from my collarbone to my shoulder, down, down, until my nipples are being sucked, bitten, and at the same time, there is moisture on my thighs, kisses on my stomach, a tongue diving at my pussy, the sensations and rhythm the same, the thrusts calculated and in tune as if both sets of hands know and understand that my body needs this, needs it in order to survive.  But just as I’m about to climax, just as my body goes stiff and my knees bend higher, I wake up.
    What is my body telling me, to fuck off?
    Tired in Tennessee
    +++
    Dear Tired,
    Wow, your body is telling you a lot.  First and foremost, it’s telling you that it needs to be touched.  Not handled, not ravished, but touched, enjoyed, thoroughly seduced and taken to that place where pleasure is only given.  You’re a giver in your sexual relationships, I can tell without asking.  Your subconscious is trying to tell you that right now, you need to take.  You need to find a way to embrace only your desires, only your needs, and shut away whatever else is going on to just feel.  This takes time, and dedication.  If you’re willing to give some of both, I have the answer you need.
    M
    +++
    Kia stood outside of the cliffside mansion and wondered for the twelfth time what the hell she was doing.  She’d taken a thousand dollars out of her savings and used the rest of her vacation days because some sex Madame had told her she knew how to fix her orgasm.  Kia didn’t know if she was more depressed because her orgasm was broken, or because she was desperate enough to listen to an email from a stranger.  Either way, she was here, on the coast off of Washington State, standing outside of a large wood and glass structure with no luggage, no phone, only her purse with identification to get her on and off of her