Instructions for Proper Delivery
by L Arthur Conrad

‘You’re the delivery man?’

I played the words back in my mind because I could have sworn she asked me if I was still a virgin. I truly tried for a verbal response, but as soon as Mrs Jouette had opened the door, she had caught me in some cosmic, magnetic web that surrounded her. I couldn’t speak.

‘You don’t look like a grocery delivery guy. You look like you should be working at some health club, you know, flexing or … something. That’s what my sister’s boy does. He’s about your age.’

I tried to do some quick math on Mrs Jouette’s age, but her web spun itself around my mind in such a way that any logical reasoning was impossible. Mrs Jouette was, to say the least, transcendental. If there was an aura for seduction, it surrounded her.

‘Yes, ma’am. I really am a grocery delivery guy … man. Gives me a bit of spending cash while I go to college. Where do you want the groceries?’

‘Actually, I was just on my way out. Just set them inside the door.

‘Oh? Will Mr Jouette help you put them away?’

She chuckled, but took the obvious bait anyway. There is no more Mr Jouette. An unfortunate victim of an intoxicated driver.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

‘Somehow, I believe you really are.’ Mrs Jouette smiled and moved to one side of the door, making barely enough room for a piece of paper to fit between us. The hairs on my arm were drawn toward her as I passed. When do you, ah, deliver again?’

‘I’m scheduled again in five days.’

‘Fine. I’m sure; I’ll need groceries in five days. You’ll have something special to bring me won’t you, ah –?’

‘Carl,’ I supplied my name, feeling as if I was standing too close to a campfire.

‘Bring me something sweet but not too sweet. See you in five days … Carl.’

Exactly five days later, Mrs Jouette made me wait nearly a full five minutes before answering the door. Even through the door intercom, her muted voice reached out and wrapped its web around me. Please wait. I’m not …’

‘Decent? Had she said she decent? I held the grocery crate before me, hiding the way my imagination had stretched my fly. When Mrs Jouette answered the door, she wore a silk robe, printed in gold and red Kama Sutra images of couples entwined. At that point, I didn’t know the Kama Sutra from science fiction. It was clear that she wore nothing under that fluid fabric. The satin flowed over her like a clear spring over rocks smoothed by the water caress.

‘Are you OK, Carl?’

‘F-fine. I’m fine. Were you getting ready to go somewhere? I can come back.’

‘I was getting ready, but I’m not going any place.’

Her robe was barely closed. The space between the two gold halves at the front defined her proficiency at non-verbal teasing. I almost fell forward, as if drawn by the gravity of her confidence. She spoke in a tone of withheld promise. ‘I saw you coming and had to throw something on. She stuck her hand out. ‘We didn’t formally meet last time, did we?’

I set the crate down and put out my hand, forgetting that the front of my pants had filled like a jib on a 34-foot schooner in a heavy wind. Mrs Jouette smiled like a soccer player who’d just made the winning goal and took my hand. I mean she took my hand. She clasped it and it became hers. Sensuality emitted from her pores, taking my face in wispy hands then tongue-kissing me in a way that was more engaging than any actual kiss I had experienced up to that point

Mrs Jouette smiled a contented Cheshire Cat smile. She relaxed her grip on my hand, her fingers slipping between mine, gently rubbing the crotch where my fingers joined my palm. The magnetism of her touch nearly drew my hand to slide inside her robe as if it had some mind of its own.

‘Nice to meet you, Carl. Did you remember to bring something special for me?’

‘Would you like to see what’s in the crate?’

‘I suppose, if that’s what you’ve brought me.’

I opened the crate, pulling out a chocolate orange, wrapped in gold foil, that I had added to the order, hoping and praying that it qualified as being something special.
I held it out for her. Mrs Jouette again gazed down, past the chocolate orange, somewhere around my billowing jib.

‘You really enjoy your job, don’t you Carl?’

I flushed. Yeah, at that moment, I really did enjoy the job, though it scared the hell out of me.

‘You’d better come in. Wouldn’t do to uncrate the produce out here, would it? Mrs Jouette stepped aside, leaning against the jamb, arching her back, allowing only enough room for passage with contact. We brushed each other at two points of our respective protrusions. With a gentle but irresistible hand between my shoulder blades, she directed me to a couch, pressing me to sit. She stood right before me, my eyes at a level a little below her navel, tormenting me with near-glimpses between the barely closed plackets of her robe of what had not been offered.

‘Is there anything I can get you, Carl?’

‘Like what?’ I raised my eyes to her.

‘I don’t know Carl. What do you want? Coke? Lemonade? Something a bit more imaginative?

I couldn’t imagine what to imagine. ‘No thanks, Mrs Jouette. I’m fine.’

‘I don’t know, Carl you seem a bit nervous … tense.’

Tense wasn’t exactly right, but wasn’t exactly wrong. As she sat, she nearly plunked herself in my front pants pocket, one hand landing on my thigh, perilously close to my swollen imagination. She leaned against me, reaching over to open the lid of the crate at my feet. I could smell the clove of her breath when she spoke. The sexual energy that surrounded her soaked into me like the second-hand smoke of a hash pipe. She extracted the chocolate orange.

‘Do you like it?’ I asked. ‘It comes from China.’

‘I think so. Do you think that you have anything else to show me? Something else that I might want more than a foil-wrapped chocolate orange?’

‘What is it you want?’

Her hand pressed deeper between my thighs, squeezing my fever-heated leg. She smiled an obliging smile. ‘I’ll take the orange this time.’

When Mrs Jouette rose to retrieve her chequebook, she hesitated before me, again torturing me again with the promise of the unpromised. After moments lost in impossible fantasy, she returned and sat beside me, writing the cheque as if she were drafting some sacred covenant with me.

‘Will I have to call again if I need more produce, or something? Or will you just bring something to me?

‘No. I can deliver something sooner – say, day after tomorrow when I work again.’

‘I don’t think I want to wait two days. Could you just drop something by tomorrow, on your own time? I’m sure you can find something I want. Be a good delivery man and see if you can think of what that might be.’ She kissed me on the cheek. I nodded. ‘Good. I like the idea of you thinking of me, Carl. I want to be a special customer.
I like that you will have my needs and wants on your mind.’

I blew off class the next day, running around, looking for something that Mrs Jouette would find special. Late in the afternoon, I found a brass statue of Parvati, a Hindu goddess whose image was used in the Kama Sutra – or so the sales clerk told me. It cost me a week’s worth of lunch money. I called Mrs Jouette to say I had found something.

She answered the door, again wearing the silk robe with the Kama Sutra images. This time the plackets were light years apart.

‘Eye contact, Carl, eye contact.’

‘Sorry, Mrs Jouette.’

‘It’s all right, Carl. Actually, I’m flattered. Clearly you like what you see.’

Mrs Jouette lifted the corner of her robe and examined the images of mating couples, but did nothing to cover herself.

‘Have you ever read the Kama Sutra?’

‘No ma’am.’

‘Do know what it is?’

‘It’s a manual for making love.’ I had just learned that.

‘Do you have something for me?’

‘Yes ma’am.’ I held out the box with the statue.

‘Hmm. Not very talkative are we today, Carl? That’s fine. Come in. Not sure how much talk we need.’ She opened the box, recognising the statue with genuine appreciation. ‘It’s Parvati. How thoughtful. I have just the place for it.’

Once again, she took possession of my hand and led me upstairs to a room that exuded sexual promise as much as Mrs Jouette exuded sensuality. The room could have graced the pages of one of those magazines that featured celebrity homes. Thick drapes soaked up all the light from outside, before it could taint the erotic dusk of the room. The bed, adorned with a red and gold canopy, matched Mrs Jouette’s robe. At its foot stood a pedestal with a light from the ceiling shining directly down on a statue of a beautiful woman in the arms of a boy with wings.

‘This is Cupid and Psyche.’ Mrs Jouette set the statue aside, and told me to replace it with the one of Parvati, in the centre of the light.

She stood very close, watching as I positioned the statue, like a master archaeologist instructing a student with some rare find. The light glinted off the brass, like splashes of water. I sensed Mrs Jouette standing behind me – God, how I sensed her. I feared turning around.
I knew when she moved away, feeling that I was no longer within whatever mystical bubble surrounded her. Then she spoke. ‘Turn around.’

Entirely unclothed, with silk Kama Sutra lovers pooled around her ankles, Mrs Jouette stood like Venus walking on the waters of satin lust.

She moved around me with arousing grace and knelt in the middle of the bed, facing Parvati. Speckles of light splashed off the goddess and danced like fairies about her in the glow. ‘Take your clothes off, Carl.’

Mrs Jouette watched me with such intent that at first
I felt intimidated. Her eyes were filled with appreciation for the effect her body had on me. With her approving nod, arousal overtook intimidation and I stood with my cock rigid and pointing directly at her.

‘Come kneel on the bed, behind me, and lightly place your hands on my back and shoulders.’

I followed her instructions, the tip of my cock brushing against her back. My hips automatically began to move, pushing it up, and forward against her then back in a salsa rhythm.

‘Don’t! Mrs Jouette pulled away and lay on her stomach, hands down to her side. ‘Just lightly run your hands over my skin.’

Something passed out of her pores into me through my hands, a cross between heat and electricity.

‘You’re nice looking, nicely built. Have you ever made love to anyone?’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Did you touch them like you are touching me now?

‘Well … er, no. I guess not.’

I pressed my cock against her again.

‘Don’t do that. Slow down.’ She waited until I pulled away. ‘How long did it take?’

‘What?’ I gasped, thinking about the two times I’d been with a girl.

‘How long did it take? How much time? How long did you make love? How long did you last?’

‘Well …’

‘Ever more than five minutes?’

‘Er … no, ma’am.’

‘Did they come?’

‘Oh … I don’t know. I guess not.’

‘Well, I am going to come. You are going to make me come.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes you are. Kiss me – on the back. Start at the bottom of my spine and slowly put kisses on each of my vertebrae.’

Bending to place my lips on her back, I realised that her skin had an earthy fragrance that only made me harder.

‘Uh-huh … that’s it. Run your hands up and down my sides. Let your fingertips brush the sides of my breasts … yes. Now cup my breasts in your hands, and massage me.’

I reached under her. Suddenly, I understood the perfect design of the hand and its relationship to the breast.

‘Easy! Don’t be greedy. Be nice sensuous. Now circle my nipples with your fingers. Yes! Kiss my neck.’

I placed my lips upon it. The tips of my fingers became energized. A static electricity travelled up my arms each time my finger caught and flicked one of her nipples. Mrs Jouette shuddered. Pinch them – softly.’

I wanted to grasp Mrs Jouette, but didn’t.

‘Pinch harder.’ Her whimper dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Now, softly.’

I continued, massaging, pinching and kissing; feeling her until she pulled out of my hands and rolled over. Feeling the vibration of my impending climax, she pressed her thumb against a point just below the head of my penis, stopping me from ejaculating. Her whisper became musky incense in my ear. ‘Not until I’ve come first. Now show me how you kiss.’

Cupping my face, she pulled my lips to hers, pressing her tongue past them, drawing my tongue into her mouth.

‘Slow down, Carl. We’re not popsicles. It’s a dance. It’s a tango.’

I fought the ticking stopwatch in my groin, not sure which way it counted, up or down. She kept me at the brink of self-electrocution. ‘Stroke my breasts. No reason to stop just because we’re kissing. Move your hands around my body. I’ll show you.’

I followed the way her hand moved around my body. After long shuddering minutes of fighting climax, she pulled away. ‘Kiss my breasts, Carl.’

I could feel every pore with my lips.

‘Tongue my nipples.’

I flicked at them.

‘Draw them into your mouth, then release them, blow on them, let them soften, then draw them up again. Suckle them. Kiss my stomach. Lick it with the tip of your tongue.’ She opened her legs and guided me so that I knelt between them. ‘Slide your tongue into my navel. Ohh … Carl, you are a quick study. Run your tongue down my belly. Kiss me on the lips between my legs.’

Pressing my lips against hers, nearly caused me to erupt all over the quilt. ‘Yes! Tongue kiss, like before. Part my lips with your tongue.’ She shuddered. ‘Find my clit, the hard nubbin hidden under the top of my lips.’

I found it as if it were some soulmate to my tongue.

‘Yes! There it is. Tickle it with the tip of your tongue.’

Her legs began to slowly pump up and down.

‘Oh, Carl. Ohh …’

Her spasms quickened until she was trembling. She curled one leg, running her foot up and down my butt.

‘Yes!’ Her hips thrust at my face. ‘Oh Carl.’

She planted her feet, pressing her swollen fleshy lips against my face. ‘Oh God!’

She vibrated. She vacillated between quick moaning yelps and prayer. ‘Oh God. Oh! Oh God, Um! Oh God. Ooh. My God! God!’

The call for her deity became something less intelligible, then deeper, then turned to screaming. Her thighs clamped my head, muffling her ear-shattering shrieks. I hung on to her, riding out the earthquake of her climax, the bucking bronco of her orgasm.

When the tsunami of it began to subside, she cupped my face and pulled it up to her own once more, pressing her tongue past my lips again. Her legs wrapped around me, drawing me into her. Her arousal was so saturating that only the nuclear-hot energy passing through me in waves from my groin told me I had entered her.

‘Slow down, Carl. Keep me going. Look me in the eyes. Be with me, not just in me.’

I thrust, pulled back and thrust again, and again. In wave after wave after wave, Mrs Jouette climaxed time and again. Most amazing about her climax were the pulsing waves of energy that surged into me. Gasping, she cried, ‘Hold back as long as you can Carl, ride this with me as long as we can.’

I tried. When my own orgasm came, the harmonics of our simultaneous cries extended moments into timeless ecstasy. When we could both breathe again, Mrs Jouette spoke

‘Do you have any homework you have to do this afternoon, Carl?

‘Not really,’ I lied.

‘Good. I have more lessons for you. Do you have tomorrow off?’

‘Yes.’ I lied again.

I took the next three days off from work and school; well, at least I took them off from my college classes. Tutelage with Mrs Jouette continued in full swing. I can still hear her voice whenever I make love to this day.

‘You’re large enough that you can take me from behind in the proper way.’ Mrs Jouette knelt on the bed, holding the headboard for stability. ‘Come up behind me, but don’t put yourself into me.’ I moved to her until my erect cock came into contact with her thighs. ‘My, but you’re an eager boy – but don’t let the eagerness of your body stand in the way. You will eventually get your pleasure. Hold me. Wrap your arms around me and press your whole body against mine.’

Wrapping my arms about Mrs Jouette, I felt the web of the mystical sensuality she possessed entwine itself around me along with the feverish warmth of her body. ‘With one hand, cup my breast and run the other down the front of me until you can slip it between my legs.’

Mrs Jouette reacted to my touch, though I couldn’t say her reaction was physical. Running my hand down the front of her drew something out of her that expanded when my fingers moved the tangle of hair just where her legs came together. Something rippled through her as my fingertips touched her mound. ‘Gently, Carl, gently. Use your fingers to draw out my lips as if you were a bee opening the petals of flower.’

As I instinctively pulled her closer to me, the warmth of her flesh seemingly radiated through the pores of my own skin. ‘Knead my breasts, Carl; first one and then the other, tenderly squeezing and pulling on my nipples.’ Mrs Jouette purred as I followed her instruction. ‘You’re very good at multi-tasking, Carl. Keep that up and kiss my neck at the same time. That’s right. Nibble on my ear from time to time. Ears are so important. Always remember that.’

Concentrating on all that was asked of me, I found that every bit my whole being had become absorbed with Mrs Jouette. She trembled and her voice dropped a half-octave to a whisper. ‘Slip your finger into me and find my clit.’ She was wet enough that she drew my finger into her. She vibrated. When I found her clit, she gasped. ‘Gently. Tenderly. Lovingly, Carl, lovingly.’

That came easily. I was so lost in her that maintaining all the ways of touching her was no task, only a joy. Mrs Jouette quaked then moaned and arched her back. ‘Now, Carl, now. Fuck me.’

I slid into her like a hot knife into butter.

‘Keep fingering my clit. Bite my ear.’ Her words gave way to cries. Her climax rolled from her and through me in waves. There was no separating hers from mine or me from her.

Sometime in the miasma of three days of love lessons, we needed fresh sheets and a bath. Mrs Jouette got into the tub before it had been filled, sliding up close to the spout. ‘Get in behind me, Carl, close, with a leg on either side of me. I’m going to show you that the tub is a playpen. I sat and she pulled my legs forward until we touched at all points possible. ‘Help me put my legs up on the wall, so that the water will fall on my crotch.’ We scooched and shimmied until her legs were straight up the wall and the water cascaded down onto her mound. She jerked and writhed as it fell on her.

‘Cup my breasts, finger my nipples. Hold me like a baby and see me through this.’ I did. Mrs Jouette turned her head up to me. ‘Kiss me. I need to be kissed.’ I kissed her and held her like a baby. When she became lost in her own climax, I became lost in her.

At some point, I woke to find myself in her bed alone. As if sensing I had awakened, she returned with a small bowl of crushed ice. Before I could ask, she explained, ‘This is going to be a multiple lesson in kissing, the joy of giving and how a woman’s body is a fine-tuned instrument of sensitivity. Put this around my head covering my eyes.’ She produced a black silk scarf from a bureau drawer.

Thus blindfolded, she lay on her back, naked, exposed – tempting. I wanted badly, just to enter into her, but had already learned the rewards of delaying gratification. ‘Take the one full ice cube from the bowl and touch various parts of my body – only momentarily each time. Don’t let me know where you are going to touch me.’

With each contact of the ice, she flinched, cooed, gasped, giggled or laughed. Her infectious arousal mounted. ‘Don’t be timid, Carl, include my nipples and crotch as you place the ice cube against me – just remember to surprise me.’ Her arousal made it an act of will not to just thrust into her. ‘Kiss me, Carl, but continue to surprise me with your touch.’

She took my lower lip between her teeth, tugged on it, then drew my tongue from out of my mouth just a bit. Quickly, I realised that this was the lesson. With each finesse of a kiss she showed me I imitated her, finding the corner of the mouth; when to be gentle when to be firm; when to press my tongue deep, and when to withdraw. All the while I continued to dab at her with the ice cube, revelling in the restlessness of her and my arousal.

‘Put the ice back in the bowl. Slide your finger into me.’ We continued kissing as I slid my finger in and out of her, curling it to find that certain spot just as she had taught me. As my hand moved in and out, the base of my finger rubbed up against her clit. Her arousal would escape from her, past her lips and into me. She pulled away, momentarily, breathing into my ear, ‘When I say now, scoop a handful of ice and press it against my crotch.’

Kissing, we connected at a deeper level as I moved my finger in and out of her; truly learning the joy of giving as her arousal mounted in her, passing on to me through our lips. She trembled, quaked then writhed.

‘Now!’ I was so into her, that I missed it. ‘Now, Carl, I said, now!’ I scooped up a small handful of ice and pressed it against her crotch, trying to maintain the kiss, but she arched her back and let out a shriek. I pulled the ice away. She screamed. ‘Don’t! Put it back!’

I did, frightened by her thrashing and screaming. It was my first experience of being with a woman as she experienced such an explosive orgasm. It was frightening and wonderful, like a violent tornado.

These were not my only lessons with Mrs Jouette, but they were some of the most memorable. I, and every woman I have become lovers with, are truly thankful for her tutelage, though I found that discretion often prohibited me from telling each of Mrs Jouette.