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The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the DSM, is used by mental health professionals as a reference guide when diagnosing and documenting mental disorders.
Included in the DSM is a condition known as Sexual Aversion Disorder. Sexual Aversion Disorder is commonly found in victims of rape, molestation or other forms of sexual abuse. This story does not contain any reference to rape, molestation or sexual abuse and none should be implied.
The following information is included to help you better understand the actions of one of the characters in this story.
From the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fourth Edition (DSM-IV):
302.79 Sexual Aversion Disorder
The essential feature of Sexual Aversion Disorder is the aversion to and active avoidance of genital sexual contact with a sexual partner. The disturbance must cause marked distress or interpersonal difficulty. The dysfunction is not better accounted for by another Axis I disorder (except another Sexual Dysfunction). The individual reports anxiety, fear, or disgust when confronted by a sexual opportunity with a partner. The aversion to contact maybe focused on a particular aspect of sexual experience (e.g., genital secretions, vaginal penetration). Some individuals experience generalized revulsion to all sexual stimuli, including kissing and touching. The intensity of the individual’s reactions when exposed to the aversive stimulus may range from moderate anxiety and lack of pleasure to extreme psychological distress.
Subtypes are provided to indicate onset (Lifelong versus Acquired), context (Generalized versus Situational), and etiological factors (Due to Psychological Factors, Due to Combined Factors) for Sexual Aversion Disorder.
Associated Features and Disorders
When confronted with a sexual situation, some individuals with severe Sexual Aversion Disorder may experience Panic Attacks with extreme anxiety, feelings of terror, faintness, nausea, palpitations, dizziness, and breathing difficulties. There may be markedly impaired interpersonal relations (e.g., marital dissatisfaction). Individuals may avoid sexual situations or potential sexual partners by covert strategies (e.g., going to sleep early, traveling, neglecting personal appearances, using substances, and being over-involved in work, social, or family activities).
And now, on with the story…
Chapter One – Lesson One: Lecture
I have to say, for some reason I couldn’t figure out at the time, my heart was racing and I was excited. If that wasn’t enough, somewhere in the back of my brain was a little voice asking me ‘Is she really serious? Maybe this is just a big a come-on?’
My name, in case I haven’t mentioned it, is Joel Johnson and the woman I was just referring to is Gwendolyn O’hara. I used to date her in back in high school, but I’ll tell you more about that later.
At the time she was looking right at me and I had to say something. I just didn’t know what.
“All right, what do you want to know?”
Seeming perplexed, Gwen replied, “I don’t know.” She thought a second and then asked, “How about we start with the sexual positions I don’t know?”
“Do you know any other positions than missionary?” I asked.
Her answer was short and simple, “No.”
“Well, first there’s missionary inverted. That’s where the woman is on top.”
I guess she was confused because Gwen asked, “You mean the woman gets between the man’s legs?”
“No, but I’ve seen that done before. I can’t say I remember the name for it though. Just imagine that you and whomever you are with both roll over while doing it in missionary position. When you stop rolling; you are on top and he is on the bottom; and, your legs are still on the outside of his.”
I could tell she didn’t fully understand me when she asked, “How does he move with me on top of him?”
“Usually, he doesn’t. You do.”
I could see her picturing it in her mind.
Unfortunately, so was I. And, the image was very arousing, as my then awaking manhood can testified.
After a few seconds, Gwen said, “I think I’ve got it. What’s next?”
“Continuing with woman on top positions, I guess the next would be cowgirl.”
She giggled. “How’s that one work?”
“Well, the man lies on his back; and, you kneel facing him in an almost sitting fashion. Then, using your legs, you move up and down sort of in a bouncing motion. Got it?”
Nodding, Gwen replied, “Yes. That sounds easy enough. What’s next?”
“Then there’s reverse cowgirl. It’s pretty much the same but you’re facing the other way.”
I could see her thinking again. “Okay, I got it.”
“Have you ever heard of doggie style?”
There was another “No.” for an answer.
“Well, doggie style is when the woman is kneeling on all fours and gets on his knees behind her. Then after he crawls between her legs, enters her from behind.”
She laughed, canlı bahis and then said, “Is there any barking involved?”
“Not usually; but, I have known more than one woman to howl in that position.”
Now it was her turn to say, “You’re kidding; aren’t you?”
“Not at all. It’s one of the best positions for stimulating a woman’s g-spot.”
Obviously intrigued, Gwen asked, “Her what?”
“G-spot, it’s a sensitive area about one to two inches inside the vagina. If you were kneeling and on all fours, as in doggie style, it would be on the bottom.”
There was a tone of excitement in her voice when Gwen next asked, “How is that more stimulating for me, ah, the woman?”
“If the angle is right, each time the man’s penis enters you it will rub against your g-spot.”
I could see a perplexed look on her face and could tell she didn’t understand.
“Being a man, I can’t explain it to you. I think you’re just going to have to try it and find out someday.”
Something told me my answer wasn’t good enough for her so I moved on.
“Next we have several of what I like to call variants of the missionary position.”
A look of surprise came appeared on her face followed by her saying, “Wait a minute, you mean there’s more than one way to do missionary? Patty never told me that.”
“He might not have known. And yes, there’s ‘The Deck Chair’, ‘The Deck Chair Folded’, ‘The Victory’ and the ‘Deep Stick’ to mention a few. They are all pretty much the same, except for the way you position your legs. In ‘The Deck Chair’, you pull your legs back until your shins are parallel with the bed or whatever. In ‘The Deck Chair Folded’, you put your legs under the man’s arms and he holds them in place. In “The Victory’, you hold your legs up and out wide in a ‘V’ shape; and in ‘The Deep Stick’, your legs are straight up and resting on his chest. Then there’s…”
She stopped me. “Wait a minute! You’ve lost me. I can’t keep them all straight in my head.”
“I got some videos I have back at the apartment that can show you how it’s done.” I suggested.
She responded, “What kind of videos would have that in them?”
“You know, pornographic videos?” I answered nonchalantly.
Her next question surprised me, “Are they going to tell me if I’m doing it wrong?”
“No. That they can’t do.” I replied. But we both knew the answer before I said it.
It was her turn to be nonchalant. “Then why don’t you just show them to me?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” I began.
Don’t get me wrong, under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t have been objecting. It’s just that it sounded too much like holding candy in front of a diabetic and then saying look but don’t touch. It didn’t occur to me at the time to ask myself who was the diabetic and who was holding the candy. I naturally assumed that I was the one with the ‘juicy fruit’ in my hands. I thought she was too vulnerable and if anything did happen, I would be taking advantage of her.
Before I could tell her why she added, “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re both adults here. All I want you to do is show me the various positions. It’s not as if we’re actually going to do anything. I know you don’t think of me that way.”
‘Not think of you that way! Gwen, you have no idea how wrong you are. Don’t you know you’re playing with fire here?’ I thought to myself.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch the videos? Despite what you might have heard, some of them are actually very educational.”
In a very soft tone, Gwen responded, “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to. I’ll understand if you say no. It’s just that there are so many things I missed out on and I don’t want to do so any more just because I didn’t know what to do when the time comes.”
That last part got to me. It was too much like a plea for help for me to ignore… or so I thought.
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” I said reluctantly.
She breathed a sigh of relieve; and then, if that wasn’t out of nowhere changed the subject, “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to do but never have. Can you guess what that is?”
The truth is, by then, I was afraid to ask.
Since she was looking through the back door glass when as she said it. Something told me I knew what it was.
In reality, if I’d had any wits about me at all, I would have seen what was coming next.
Chapter Two — High School Friends
By now you must be wondering how it was that I found myself in that situation in the first place. In order for you to understand, I have to explain the events leading up to that night.
I met Gwendolyn thirty-three years ago. We went to high school together; and, like the young school boy I was, I fell hopelessly in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her.
Both our parents were Catholics and sent us to “Saint Augustine’s School for The Chaste and Pious Youth”. In case you couldn’t tell by the name, it’s a parochial school. bahis siteleri We were sent there for entirely different reasons. My parents sent me there to keep me out of trouble; Gwen’s sent her there because they wanted her to keep the virginity and have the benefits of a ‘morally sound education’.
We only dated a few times and, because of the circumstance, I never had a chance to kiss her. I guess that’s to be expected when your date is being chaperoned by a member of the girl’s family. It was Gwen’s misfortune that she was forced to have her older brother Jimmy accompany her on dates.
I remember to this day arriving at her house for our first date. We were all standing there in the living room, Gwen, her bother Jimmy, and her parents. Jimmy was laughingly hysterically like a hyena while under the watchful eye of their parents; Gwen was forced to say to me very formally… “Joel Johnson, I want you to know that I’m a good catholic girl and I’m saving myself for my husband. Don’t try anything fresh with me or God will strike you down.” Then Jimmy added, “And after that I’ll break your arm!”
God it must have been humiliating for her!
Jimmy wasn’t really bad at all. He even was kind enough to remain a discrete distance from us. Still, I know it was embarrassingly uncomfortable for Gwen every time we dated. After the humiliation of our first day, I wondered if she’d ever see me again. To my elation, she did.
Things didn’t work out the way I expected them to though because before I had a chance to tell her how I felt about her, Gwen’s parents arranged for her to meet Patrick ‘Patty’ Doherty. Patty, in case you haven’t already guessed from his name, was the descendant of Irish emigrants. He too was devoutly Catholic. As strange as it seems now, even though it was an arranged courtship, Gwen fell for him like a ton of bricks and thus ended my dreams of ever being with her.
Anyway, after high school, Patty and Gwen were married. Also about the same time, Patty and I both went on to college. He went on to the local college and majored in education; and, Gwen assumed her new role of housewife. My parents wanted me to go to Norte Dame; but, after four years of parochial school, I was in no hurry to go to another one. So, I decided to stay in the south and work on a B.B.A. at the University of Georgia.
A little over three years later, and about the same time, Patty and I both graduated from college. Patty took a job as a high school teacher; and then, he and Gwen moved out of town and into the county. Except for church, I didn’t see her much after that.
Similar to Patty, I also got a job after college. The difference was I went to work as an entry level manager for one of the local banks.
One year after I graduated college, I got married. My first wife, Jenny, became pregnant. After which, she promptly ran off with the baby’s father.
A divorce and five years later, I married my second wife Mona. Ten years into that relationship, out of the blue, Mona started harping on me about how unfulfilled she felt as a woman. At the time, I thought it had something to do with the fact that she wanted to have a baby.
I tried for the next two years to give her one. As things went, after more failed attempts than I can count, Mona began accusing me of having an affair.
I wasn’t and told her so; she called me a liar; I told her she was behaving like a paranoid bitch; and, before I knew what had happened I was divorced again.
Personally, in retrospect, from the way she’d had been acting at the time I think Mona was going through ‘The Change of Life’ and wouldn’t have been happy even if I had managed to give her what she wanted. Then again, maybe she’d just tired of me? I don’t know. One thing I do know, when her lawyer hit me up for alimony, I wished I had been sleeping around on her. At least then she would have deserved the monthly payments I was stuck giving her!
But that’s enough about my failed marriages.
Meanwhile, about the same time my second divorce became final, I decided to take an early retirement. It was mid July.
That was also when Gwen quite unexpectedly, and no less tragically I might add, regained her freedom. Patty, from all accounts, went out of his way to electrocute himself. I’m not sure if he was suicide or just plain stupidity. But, I can tell you this… if there was a game show called “Dumbass Ways To Die”, hands down, he’d have to be the winning contestant… posthumously of course!
Now, before you start telling me how insensitive you think I’m being, let’s play a little game of our own. If you know any adults that are stupid enough to try and pry bread out of a toaster with butter knife while said toaster is still plugged into the wall, move to the other side of the room. If you don’t, stay where with me on this side of the room. Where are you standing? See my point?
I often wonder if the coroner debated whether to list the cause of death as “Suicide By Toaster” or “Terminal bahis şirketleri Stupidity”! In the final analysis, it really doesn’t matter. Dead is dead, stupid or not.
Looking back on it, the first day I meet him I remember thinking how poor old Patty was an odd sort of fellow; and, if you’d asked me then, I would have told you that I couldn’t put it into words. It doesn’t make much sense does it? Well, at the time, it didn’t to me either. Little did I know then how right I was.
Anyway, as you can imagine, or maybe you can’t yet, it wasn’t that much of a surprise to me when I found out he was dead under somewhat bizarre circumstances.
I was out of town visiting relatives when Patty checked out of this world and into the Hotel Hereafter. When I returned home, it was to find that Gwen had left a voicemail on my machine telling me about it. By the time I heard about his trip from our world to the next, the funeral was over, it was old news, and Patty himself had become just one more footnote in ‘The Cosmic Journal of The Bizarre’.
Even so, I immediately called her to express my condolences. After listening to her a few minutes, I could tell that she didn’t feel like talking about it. So, I decided not to pay her the customary ‘post mortem’ visit.
My heart ached for her; but, I’m sure it was nothing compared to the pain Gwen was going through. What else could I do? Sometimes, people need time to adjust to change; and, the loss of a loved one is the biggest change a person can go through.
Three days later, I was happy when I received a call from Gwen asking me if I could help her move some of “Patty’s’ things into storage. It was a sign she was moving on with her life.
I went to see her the next day. When Gwen opened the door, I stood there in shock! She was beautiful. Now I won’t lie to you and tell you that she looked the same way she did back in high school after thirty-three years. To tell the truth, she looked better. She had changed her hair color from brunette to what I believe is chestnut. Certainly, she did not younger, not at the age of forty-eight; but she definitely looked better.
You see back in high school Gwen was, and looked like, a young girl. She was a little bit too skinny, still had her braces on, and hadn’t filled out yet. But the woman that met me at the door was none of these. She was fully developed, had perfect teeth, wonderful skin tone and was curvy everywhere that it counts. Her arms and legs were taut and firm, yet still very feminine and sexy… all this in stark contrast to me!
Too many years sitting behind a desk hadn’t been as kind to me. I was about twenty pounds overweight and while not balding, beginning to develop gray on the roof. My friends tried to tell me it made me look distinguished, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Me, I thought it made me look old. I’ve never been what I considered a handsome man, but the women seem to think otherwise. To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t look bad; I’m just not as good looking as I’d like.
As we started working, it became obvious to me that Gwen wasn’t as ‘broken up’ by Patty’s death as I first thought.
Curiosity got the best of me and finally I got up the nerve to ask her about it. I remember we were taping up a box of Patty’s clothes at the time…
“Gwen, don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t seem as upset as I thought you’d be? Was being married to him that bad?”
As I pulled the roll of tape over the box top, she replied, “I’m feel ashamed to say it, but in a way, it’s a relief.”
“He wasn’t abusing you was he?” I asked.
She pressed the tape to the box and answered, “No, it was nothing like that. For the most part, he was a good provider and, in his way, he tried to be a good husband. It’s just that…”
Gwen seemed hesitate to speak and, for a few seconds, I thought she was going to cry. Then she looked at me and with tears in her eyes said, “If you don’t mind. I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
The subject was dropped and we spent the rest of the day moving Patty’s things to storage.
When we were done, she insisted on taking me to dinner for helping her. That night we got reacquainted, and even though we avoided the subject of Patty, caught up on old times.
You need to understand that, while Gwen and I had kept in touch with each other during the twenty-four year period following high school, we both did our best to maintain a respectful distance. I think we both secretly knew that we still harbored feeling for each other; but, we felt we owed it to our spouses to do the right thing.
However, with Mona out of the picture and Patty gone, we could be friends again.
Since we both had plenty of free time on our hands, rather than be alone, we started going places together. Sometimes we’d go shopping, other times it would be an errand. It wasn’t really dating, more like socializing with a friend. But, whatever you want to call it, one thing was sure, we were definitely becoming closer.
Chapter Three — The Party
Mona ended up getting the house in my second divorce, too bad she found out later that the foundation was cracking from the sink hole under the house.
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