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HOOKED ON FINGERING #2 Game 19.



By half eight she had made no move to get changed and it was obvious that tonight's trip out to the pub was off.

Oh Christ! That meant sitting there in silence, or that subject would have to come up.

It was over dinner that it did. Our conversation had been stilted, when I casually asked her what she had on next week, quite innocently really.

"Making love I hope. Having sex with Jane," she said, just like that, as if she was planning a visit to the shops. I'd really walked into that one.

She kept on eating as nothing had changed. That was the moment when I knew I had to act like a man. To take the lead, and sort things out. Stop all this rubbish once and for all.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded, really firmly, trying to show her that this nonsense wasn't on. It seemed to work as well, a bit at least.

"You really don't know, do you ____ you blithering idiot," Linda answered, sort of unsure of herself I thought.

I didn't of course, but that didn't matter. I just wanted everything to get back to normal. Good. Steady like it used to be till this morning.

Then things started to go down hill a bit.

"It's the sex," she cried at me, "You're no bloody good at it."

Well that was a bit strong. She'd never complained before. We didn't do it more than once or week or so at the moment, but then again we never had. What the hell should I say next?

It ceased to be my turn.

"I've been telling you for months; no for years, bloody years. Making love to you is boring, always same, you know less about a woman's body than......than......than a chair!" She shouted.

I looked over at the chair.

Odd thing to say that.

I wonder which chair she meant. But I was beginning to get the point. She was on about that foreplay thing again, and that was bad news.

"Yes I do," I responded knowing roughly in what direction this was going.

"Where's my clitoris then?" She shouted again, getting even more agitated, "Go on tell me right now. Where's my damn clitoris?"

I nearly did it, but resisted the temptation to ask her where she had left it.

But then I was a bit stumped. I mean I knew where it was, well more or less. Not exactly, not precisely, but then I'd never really needed to know. I did know what it was for though, Mark of all people had told me, and I went straight ahead and told her. Just to show her that I knew my stuff and was no pushover.

AH! _____ OK! ____ Right!

Well then _____ so apparently Mark doesn't know as much as he thought he did. He'd get a surprise when I told him the truth that women do like having it touched though. Well, who would have thought that? That's really handy, you just touch their clit and women have orgasms. Just like that, straight away, if I'd understood Linda correctly.

Linda had been a bit upset, a bit excited, and got a bit garbled she did, so maybe I didn't get it quite right and I felt that there must be a bit more to it than that.

It was a handy bit of information to have all the same.

At that, poor Linda could take no more, and rushed upstairs to bed screaming, "Damn you, you moron, gets lost."

Totally unaware, as it happened, that at least part of her plan had actually taken seed.

---------------------------------------------

By the morning things had settled down. Terry had tried it on a bit during the night, thinking maybe he might try out this clitoris thing, to see if what she said was true. If she'd known his intention, Linda might well have let him carry on, but instead she knocked his hand away, and turned round with a curt goodnight. Terry for his part was actually quite relieved, as though he now had a rough idea what it was for; he still had no idea at all, of exactly where it was.

A few days passed without incident, a sort of silent truce having being declared. Eventually Terry could hold back no longer, as there was a question he simply had to ask. Something he just had to know.

No it wasn't the exact whereabouts of her clitoris, as he'd looked it up on the Internet, and now had a mental image of its exact location. It was something else.

"How

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