Mysteries of Premature Ejaculation revealed

After six years in Malaysia I was visiting my sister in Chennai. On the third day of my visit I had the misfortune to stumble and sprain my thigh. It turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I was lying on the couch feeling the tender hamstrings when my twenty-two year old nephew Satish came in. He was a physiotherapist.

"What's wrong with you," he asked. It was then that I got this idea. Why not get him to give me a massage? I asked him twice but he just stood there as if he did not hear me. Then suddenly he jerked up.

'What were you telling me Amar?" he asked. My name is Amaravathy. Being ten years younger he ought to call me Chithi (mother's younger sister), but from his childhood days has called me Amar. I like it that way.

"What's wrong with you? You are brooding all the time," I asked. He did act as if he had a secret sorrow.

"Nothing, I'm quite OK."

"It does not appear so. Anyway I want you to massage me and get my thigh muscles working again." He looked at me as if he did not comprehend what I was wanting. Then once again he jerked up.

"Did you say massage?"

"Yes.".

"When?"

"Now."

"OK," he said, "but not on that couch. You must lie on something hard."

"The ping-pong table?"

"That'll be fine. Give me half and hour to freshen up and get some coffee." He moved to his room with head bowed and shoulders drooping. Something was bothering him profoundly. In a young man aged twenty-two that could only be about women. Hope he was not in a trap.

At that moment I was not thinking about him but about me, and with rising excitement. My nephew, in six years I had not seen him, had grown to be tall and handsome. The moment I set eyes on him he became my fantasy object. He was about to give me a massage—an exciting prospect.

What should I wear? Nude? Funny thought. I turned away in shame—from myself. Later I asked him what I should wear. He stared back. Then he answered. He said men wear shorts.

"What do women wear?"

"I don't know. I do only for men. In out institute it is men for men and women for women. You wear shorts and bra but cover yourself with a sheet. That's what some women do even when women are working on them." He spoke in matter of fact tones. Did massaging a scantily clad aunt, shapely and quite youthful looking woman though, mean nothing to him?

I put on a pair of thick cotton knickers and a bra. I saw myself in the full length mirror. I was tingling all over. Though 32 I considered myself good looking, and sexy. Satish cannot but be excited to massage my thighs. I stretched on the table and covered myself with a white sheet and was ready. Satish wore shorts and T shirt. He started with my right foot. For one so muscular and strong his touch was surprisingly delicate. His hands were smooth without any of the callosities that tennis players have. He stretched the foot, folded it and bent it back; he pulled each toe and then he worked on the heel. He was not taking the pain out for I had no foot problems, but he was filling me with unbearable passion. I could not have imagined that massaging the foot can be so very erotic. After the feet he worked my calf. It appeared as if he was taking on every fibre of the muscles and giving it the treatment.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Wonderful," I replied. "In case you have not registered it is my right thigh that is the problem." He moved to the thigh and deftly he worked on it. He started above the knee and without exposing any part of me he worked his way up. I told him the pain was high up on the inner side. It was not. It was at the back. I was just being bold. I was in such a mood that given time I would have become reckless, but it was not to be.

He was close to my crotch when he stopped quite suddenly. A change came over him. He was standing forlornly with wide open expressionless eyes. I could see the reason. Wetness was spreading in the region of the crotch of his khaki shorts. He had ejaculated.

I watched as the wetness spread unable to decide what I should do. I looked up. Tears were flowing down my nephew's cheeks. This tall and muscular he-man was shedding tears. The aunt in me came pouring out. I was out of the sheet bra and knickers notwithstanding. I was cuddling him. I made him sit down on the bench; I wiped his tears away using my bare hands.

"You have not done anything to be ashamed of. Even an aunt is a woman. Any man will get excited when he rubs the inner thighs of any woman. Let me tell you I was excited too." He stood like zombie. Then he shook his head. So expressive was this shake of his head that its meaning was clear. 'This is not what is bothering me' his eyes were saying.

"Then what," I said. He would not answer, but slowly by relentless questioning I got his message out.

It seems that five days ago a friend and Satish had visited a prostitute. As soon as the woman lifted up her skirt Satish had ejaculated. The woman it appears was very supportive. She asked Satish to wash and put on his dress and wait for a while and then leave. She asked him not to let his friend know what happened. She even offered to return his money. Satish refused. This failure has been tormenting him.

"I am impotent Amar," he said. "I want to kill myself." He sat on the bench and wept unashamedly.

"Don't be silly," I said. "This is a curable condition. You don't have to see any doctor. I will consult my friend who is a gynaecologist and tell you what to do." He looked doubtfully. Satish is a robust fellow, but failure of sexual powers is something that can reduce any man to dust. I know one thing about PE (premature ejaculation) and that is this. It needs an understanding woman to help a man out of it, and what more helpful woman can a man get than a young aunt?

On one point I had not doubt at all. I had to make a start now or else I will miss the opportune moment. I led him to the bathroom. There I unbuttoned his shorts and pulled it down. He resisted as I expected him to.

"What are you trying to do?" he said annoyed.

"I am helping you Satish. If you do not cooperate with me you will ruin your life," I said. "You can't expect to be cured of premature ejaculation with your pants on." I spoke the punch line with such force that though he continued to squirm he allowed me to expose him. "I am your aunt. I have bathed you before and I have the right to bathe you now." I then washed his penis, and then as he wiped I washed his soiled shorts. I had to tie the towel round his waist for he seemed devoid of energy. I led him to the drawing room. I prepared hot Ovaltine which he drank.

"You must be confident that you will be OK soon," I said. He nodded uncertainly. I then rushed to the bathroom. I was wet with my vulval secretions and needed an urgent knickers change. Even as I lay under the sheets I was tense with expectation. When Satish started massaging my feet the excitement rose and as his hands came closer and closer to my crotch I was burning hot. After he ejaculated I was only too happy to let him see me in the scanty dress I was in. I wish I had been moist enough to wet the knickers through and through. Disrobing him and washing his penis took me to a new high. I have seen my nephew's penis after it had attained adult size for the first time. I have touched it and I have played with it. What a day it has been. His penis was like a large sized banana. I knew I had to have him or I'll burst. For that to happen I had to cure him. Curing him was as much for me as for him. We were both in it.

My recently qualified gynaecologist friend was of no use. The Internet and the library were better. The news they conveyed was not very heartening. All forms of male sexual inadequacies it appeared were difficult to cure. The problem was not in the body but the mind, and we know that even though there are effective drugs for mental diseases doctors did not know how they acted. Results thus tend to be uncertain. Viagra strictly speaking is not a cure for impotence. It merely enables one to improve one's erection. The body has to do its bit before the drug can act. Viagra acts on the body, not the mind.

Premature ejaculation is form of impotence. Worse, for when the problem is lack of erection man stays away from women. In PE he demonstrates his failure again and again and the embarrassment can lead him to desperation. I was also worried that in a fit of depression Satish might harm himself.

The next day I called him frequently when he was in college. When I called the fourth time I heard him laughing.

"Amar," he said, "you need not be afraid that I'll to something drastic to myself." He laughed more. This change in his mood gave me confidence that I will succeed.

In twelve days I had to go back to Kuala Lumpur. Whatever I do I must in that time. By my reckoning that was enough. Home conditions were ideal. My sister was a prominent socialite, which meant that she would be away from home most of the day. Even when in home she never came up for she had a knee problem that made stairs climbing painful. My brother-in-law was a clubman, a rummy addict. He came home only at nine in the evening. Satish went early but came home for late lunch and stayed the afternoon at home. He had evening clinic in an orthopaedic hospital. We had the house to ourselves for the whole of the afternoon.

The usual need for men is to increase their sexual sensitivity so that they can have a harder erection, but in Premature Ejaculation the reverse is the case. One has to reduce the subject's sensitivity. Surprisingly this is as difficult as increasing it. There are two movements (dance terms are very appropriate) to cure PE. The very thought made me slurp. One is to familiarise my nephew to the female body. When he saw his first adult vulva he ejaculated. The first time he touched the upper part of the inner thigh he again ejaculated. He needed to see and feel more to harden his sex trigger. The second is to bring him to the brim by penile stimulation and just before he ejaculates remove the stimulus—teasing him again and again to blunt his sensitivity. I was excited. At every point my involvement was of a kind that I can best describe as delicious for it I who would be exposing the body for his edification and my hands are ones that would be teasing his penis.

I mulled over how to proceed on the basis of what I had read about the treatment of PE. I took notes and drew up a chart of what I had to do on each of the twelve days.

Day 1

I did not expect Satish to take any form of initiative. I was in no need of any invitation. Post-lunch hour is a quiet period in our home. We could work undisturbed. I prepared myself for the exercise. I had no idea how far I would have to go in the first session but I was prepared. I shaved my vulva and armpits to smoothness. I bathed and wore a very low necked blouse with no bra, and tied a thin cotton sari without a skirt. I lightly powdered my face.

Satish was reclining on his bed and reading a magazine. His mood was good for the girl on the cover of the magazine was quite excitingly clad. His welcoming smile was sheepish. I gestured him to stay where he was.

I explained what I proposed to do.

"Are you are going to ..." he said when I had done with the explaining. He was unable to utter the magic word in his shyness.

"Yes, masturbate you," I said accenting the key word. "Just as you feel the ejaculation is about to start you must tell me and I would stop. The trick is to stop the event in its track, and then repeat it again and again. The idea is to harden your sensation to the point that it does not self-trigger." He nodded somewhat uncertainly.

"Do you think it is necessary for you to do that? I can do that by myself."

"Satish, get this clear," I said. "Do you want to get cured? If so do as I tell you."

I went for his dhoti. He squirmed momentarily. Shy boy my nephew. But he relaxed after a moment and helped me by lifting his weight off the cloth. He was now bare below the waist. His penis was large even when merely turgid. It lay on one side; there was a languid grace about it. If ever there was a penis that was made for women this was the one.

His pubic hair was jet black, lush and curly. I placed a hand under his scrotum and lifted up his testicles. I felt them tenderly. They were heavy and firm, and large. I held each testicle in my palms and gently kneaded them. The feeling was exciting. I looked up. Our eyes met. His smile was a shy smile of a little boy.

It was now the turn of the penis.

When I handling his testicles I expected his penis to raise but it did not. I lay on its side turgid but not stiff. I straightaway diagnosed the problem. He was in the medical examinee mode. When a lady doctor is examining a male patient he is not likely to have an erection. That was what was happening. I had to take immediate steps to remedy the situation. I had to make him think of me as a sex object. That was easy. I removed my pallav to expose my deep valley. The breast under the thin cotton blouse was visible too. The reaction was immediate. His penis quickly gathered strength and in desperation Satish asked me to cover myself. I did so and watched his penis anxiously lest he ejaculate. If he did the set back would have been tremendous. He was able to hold. I faced up my palm and he gave a high five and we laughed. The first move had been a success.

"Are your ready?" I asked after ten minutes. He said he was. Again I exposed my breasts and rubbed him. This was no better. Again we managed without mishap.

"Your exposed breasts are too much for me," he said.

"You think of something erotic," I said. "I will then stimulate."

"Think of what?

"Of me of course." I then had an inspiration to give commentary. "I am there standing before you in the nude. My breasts are exposed and they are large and sumptuous." His penis was rising. I continued. "They are big and as you will see one of these days they are soft and luscious." His penis was now stiff. I held the penis with my fingers and thumb and worked the foreskin forwards and backwards. I was silent. I had thought of lot of juicy things to say but I was pretty sure that it would be too much for him. I few more rubs and he knew it was time to stop.

"Stop," he said urgently. I stopped and moved away. For a moment I thought he was going to ejaculate. But no, he held.

This we did for may be a dozen times. Not only was he able to hold but the time he allowed before calling it off also lengthened. It was not good to leave him unsatisfied. I had to cap the first day's lesson with a reward. I unbuttoned my blouse.

"Fondle me," I said. I took his hands and placed it on my bare breast. He gently kneaded. I caught hold of his penis with both hands and rubbed. He ejaculated on my palms in large spurts, soiling my hands and the towel I had placed on his lap. His semen felt warm and cheesy. We lay on each other. It was then that he poured honey into my ears.

"My darling aunty, I love you," he said. I washed him and then he washed my hands. We came back to the bed and hugging we kissed on the lips for the first time. His hands probed all over my bare breasts. He rubbed my vulva too, but over the sari.

We became lovers.

Day 2:

The next afternoon we were at our post after hours of eager waiting. Though both would have liked to start where we left off I prudently decided to work my way up from square one. A disaster early on would abort the programme for hours if not for the day. More than that Satish might lose the confidence he had developed. It turned out to be the correct decision. His initial responses came on in quick time as if the previous day's experience meant nothing at all, but we speedily worked our way up.

Day two was a repeat of day one except for the finale. He fondled my bare breasts as on day one and I used my hands to masturbate him. But after he had ejaculated I lifted my sari and allowed him to touch my bare vulva. I lay back and lifted my legs. He rested his elbows on the bed and with his chin on his hands he stared with singular focus.

"Touch it," I said. He opened out the leaves. He squeezed the clitoris out of its hood and touched it with his tongue tip. He looked up and smiled.

'Kiss me," I said. He kissed my vulva as if it was my lips and I thrust my pelvis forward and moved it as if I was responding to a lip-to-lip kiss.

"Satisfied?"

"How can one ever feel he had had enough?" he said. "What's for tomorrow Aunty?" Suddenly he was calling me aunty and not Amar.

"You have to wait," I said.

Day 3:

We started as we did on day one, guardedly. We had our first disaster—he ejaculated. It was not as if we were careless. It just happened too fast for either of us. He however took it in the right spirit. After a wait we restarted but the mood was not there. Even the breasts and vulva exposed finale lacked punch. The ejaculation did have a lasting effect.

Day 4, 5 and 6:

The next three days we proceeded cautiously and made good progress. The time interval was now long enough for us to be more ambitious. I was able to play with his penis before he ejaculated in the finale. He was getting more familiar with my body.

Day 7:

"Now get ready for the next test," I said. So far I had made use of my bare breasts and vulva as rewards. The time was on for us to test his ability to hold even as he is viewing or handling my bare body. This was critical.

I removed my blouse in one jerk, and there I stood before him with my breasts grandly on display. His eyes seemed to protrude out and he desperately asked me to cover myself. I not only did that but left his presence altogether. I feared that even my presence could be too much for him. But luckily he was able to hold back. I left for some household chores giving him half an hour to get back to normalcy.

I decided on a different tack when I returned. I lay by his side fully clothed. We hugged and kissed, first tentatively and then quite passionately; when it appeared that we were getting too emotional I released myself.

"Now just hug and fondle over my blouse," I said. He did so gently and lovingly. This was an exhilarating experience. We rubbed noses and we licked our cheeks, and then we probed each others mouth with our tongues. My nephew's tongue was a long pointed one. He seemed to reach almost to my throat. We spoke to each other in baby talk with me acting the mother and he replying in malalai (Tamil for baby talk). If at this point Satish had waved the red flag I would have found it difficult to get away. He did not. We lay that way for quite a while enjoying our clothed bodies, mine anyway for he was bare below the waist. I took care not to touch his penis.

"Rub my vulva," I said. I lifter one leg and rested it on his hip. He rubbed my vulva with a delicacy that came to him so naturally. There was no roughness that men lapse into when in a passion. He went about with civilised restraint. I am proud of my nephew. He cupped my vulva and pressed. I moaned. He felt the vulval cleft with his finger tips and ran them up and down giving gently pressure when he came to the clitoris. He gently entered his middle finger into my vagina. I loved ever moment. He held on surprisingly. The time for the finale was upon us. I had it all worked out in detail.

Hitherto Satish wore a T-shirt. He was nude only below his waist. I pulled off his shirt. I went into the bathroom and removed my blouse and sari and wrapped myself in a towel. I inspected myself in the mirror. Stubble of hair had grown in the pubic area. I shaved it off. The armpit I left with the stubble. I came to the bed. Satish was excited to see me with only a towel round tied round at the level of my arm pits. I smiled and whisking off the towel and climbed the bed and lay on top of him, naked body on naked body. We hugged and kissed till Satish ejaculated. As we moved I could feel our abdomens moving smoothly against his semen. It was glorious. First our movement was with passion, and then it was like children playing with damp clay. We laughed. After some more play we went to the bathroom.

"Bathe me," I said. He did a marvellous job. He started with the neck. When he soaped the neck under the chin I was so erotic that I could feel a surge of vaginal secretions spreading out on the labia. He worked on the breasts teasingly. Every pluck of the nipple sent a thrill down my spine. He soaped my back, and then the abdomen, and then the vulva. The vulva is a tender spot that even when I wash at times causes an unpleasant feeling. Not when Satish did it. He had a natural skill of he rubbed the inner lips and clitoris in a manner that gave me intense pleasure. Then he drenched the vulva of all the soap and crouching down he kissed my vulva and then licked. I sat on a tall stool and lifted up my legs. He turned on the shower full blast and let me assure all those who read this. Make your boy friends or husbands or whatever to lick you as you sit under the shower. It has a special feeling that no one should miss. I exploded in intense orgasms, the first my nephew offered. The orgasm so drained my energy that he had to wipe me and assist me to the bed. We lay hugging and rubbing our bare bodies against each other. It was too much for the now revived Satish. He ejaculated again to our intense amusement.

"What is the programme for tomorrow, Aunty," he asked softly.

"Secret. You have to wait," I said

"I have a request," he said.

"What' that?"

"I want to rub my cheek against your scruffy pubis."

"Granted," I said. He had to be away for the next two days to Bangalore as part of his internship programme. I had time to get scruffy. It was two days lost though.

Day 10:

I had to make Satish more familiar with my nudity. I had a plan. That next morning before he left for his institute he sat sipping his coffee. I sat in front with the newspaper pretending to be engrossed in it. I lifted my leg and placed it on the moda in front in such a way that he could have glimpses of my vulva. I darted glances at him. He was interested. I could make out the bulge of his erection. I changed my pose to avert disaster. He was waiting for a second show. He had a second and a third and more each a little different. This went on for some time. I got up and left.

That afternoon I had hardly entered when Satish spoke.

"Scruffy?" he asked. He was on the sofa. I went up to him and lifting my sari. I presented my pubis with three day growth of hair on it. He hugged me by holding both my buttocks with his hands and rubbed his cheeks on my pubis, first one cheek and then the other. He could do that with impunity. It was then that I realised that it was some stimuli that provoked an ejaculation. He could hug me when I am clothed with perfect safety. We could play with our tongues and he could rub his cheeks on my vulva without mishap. If I could extend this immunity to my nude body we can solve the problem. The obvious solution was to accustom him to my nudeness in small increments and from a distance. What I had done that morning was the move in the right direction. I had to hurry for time was of the essence. I had only two days to accomplish the feat.

When I judged that he had rubbed his cheek to his heart's content against my pubis I left him. The first floor hall was a long room. Satish was on a sofa at one end of the room. I told him I have some letters to write. I changed to a night dress, one with its opening in front. I opened out the dress and sat down to write at the desk at the other end of the room. I was chatting with Satish the while. After some time I allowed the dress to slip off my shoulders and then I removed it and threw it away. He was holding out. I did not want to test him further. I put on the dress and came to him and we hugged and kissed. At my invitation he inserted his hand into the dress and felt my breasts and vulva.

"I have not written the letters yet," I said.

"Do so," he said eagerly. And I did in the nude. I folded the letter and put into the envelope. In the nude I went round searching for stamps. I got them and stuck them to the envelope.

"Satish why not you get naked too," I said. He did so. With confident steps I went towards him for the grand finale I had in mind. We hugged and moved to the bedroom. I made him lie on his back and I got on my knees and elbows above him with my vulva over his mouth. He first rubbed my buttocks with his broad hands and then he pulled my pelvis towards him and licked my vulva. He worked on the inner leaves clearing them of secretions and then went for the clitoris. He inserted his long and pointed tongue into my vagina. He lasted longer, much longer than I expected.

"It's coming," he said. I was ready. So far I was careful not to touch his large throbbing penis that was flaying before my eyes. I know that so much a flickered touch can pull the trigger. But now I could. I held the hot rod and took it into my mouth. I had to open my mouth wide to accommodate but I got it in whole and in time.

His semen flowed in massive spurts. I took it all in and swallowed the lot. Satish later said that he was screaming with surprise and pleasure but I heard him not. I sucked in the last drops and then squeezed to get what remained. It was not my intention to miss any. I took the penis out of my mouth. I licked the shaft clean. A cat could not have done a better job. Satish now got up and turned round and we hugged and kissed as never before.

Day 11:

I had this day planned as the gold medal game. Satish's holding power was now in my estimation good enough for his penis to lodge well and truly in my vagina before he ejaculates. I had to do some fine tuning before submitting him to the final test. Some hardening of his sensitivity was necessary. Failure at this stage was unthinkable.

My sister and her husband had gone to Coimbatore for a wedding. We had the whole day and the whole house at our disposal. After breakfast I closed the doors and windows and drew the curtains. Satish and I were to spend the whole day in the nude. I would cook and serve in the nude and Satish and I would partake of our lunch in the nude and he would clear the table and we will do the dishes with no clothes on. After that we will play as our fancies dictate. I will do everything in my power to provoke him with my open poses. If he is able to hold then we would be ready for the finals. That was the plan. In the event it was I who was not able to hold.

It was fun preparing breakfast and eating in the nude. Satish's penis was erect at times and would be quieter at other times. My feeling of moistness was always there. From time to time I would discreetly wipe away any secretion that peeped out. If I had carelessly allowed my wetness to spread out and if Satish notices it (as he most surely would for his eyes were ever and on darting to my vulva) then I did not expect him to hold out.

After coffee I wanted to get the work done quickly so that we can have lunch and get to the crux of our day's agenda. I was paring vegetables when I was aware of stealthy movement behind me. The shiny surface of the pressure cooker was reflecting the image of Satish. He was crawling towards me softly as a leopard. I was tingling with anticipation. He reached me and holding one buttock as if it were a football he bit it with his lips. I put my hands back and held the back of his head.

"The most beautiful twin planets globes in the solar system," he said. "The first man who called this part woman the ass must have been a donkey." He laughed. "Part your legs and bend down and touch your feet," he said. I did so. He came forward and kissed my vulva from behind. Stand up and part your legs more," he said. I did so. He lay on the floor and looked up at my vulva. "A littler more," he said. "Now slowly sit down." I was now fully into the spirit of the game. I spread my legs in order to open out my vulva, and then descended. Satish protruded his tongue with its tip flickering. His message was clear. Like an expert helicopter pilot I landed with my clitoris making precision contact with the tongue tip. I thrill passed up and down the length of my body.

"I want you inside me now." I heard a hoarse voice say. It took me a while to realise that it was I who was speaking.

We moved to the carpet. I lifted up my legs ready to receive him. He came on top. I held as little of his penis as possible in order to forestall a disaster and inserted. I was sloppy wet. It went in as if sucked in.

"Keep it in without movement," I said. I wanted to savour to the full the stretch of my vagina. My nephew did have a good sized penis. Then he pumped may be for a minute and he ejaculated in massive spurts. We had orgasms in unison. It was a moment of triumph. We hugged and then we gave ourselves a thumping high five. He had won through. We had won through.

We never wore clothing till the next morning. Satish had no problem holding. We had it twice more before night fall, and twice more that night. Rest of the time we were hugging and kissing and licking, fondling and whenever possible I was holding his penis in my mouth.

It had to end. It was too good to last. I had to leave. We extracted as much as we could in last glorious day. We had a last kiss in the car at the airport. Soon after I left Satish who had applied for training in the U.S. received their papers. "You have to get a companion soon," I said to Satish when he called. "If you lapse I am not sure you problems may not come back."

"Are you suggesting that I must give you up?"

"As lovers most certainly yes." I said.

He called regularly. In his talk there were occasionally references to one Mira. She was an Armenian girl 19 who had joined the physiotherapy course as an undergraduate. She had difficulty with English and Satish was helping her. He emailed her photos. He was one of those rarities—a small made person with an exceptional figure. I liked her. She had dark hair and a very pretty face with a smile to match. Soon they became friends.

"What do you mean friends?" I asked. There was silence from the other end. "Sex?" More silence. "Scrubby?" I asked. Silence again. I congratulated him. Then he laughed. "Seems a sweet girl."

"A gem," he replied emphatically. "But what about you?"

"I am not missing anything," I said, and that was true.​