Kara's Stereotypes

At a party, in a conversation about relationships with Kara, I gave a standard spiel about the types of men in a woman’s life that previous interlocutors had found amusing.

“Unless they are gay or asexual, all men in any given woman’s life (excluding psychos and close relatives) align with 1 of 3 stereotypes:

“First, there’s ‘Brad’. He’s the stable boyfriend / husband type who’s generally pleasant to be around. He’s pretty confident about his position in her your life, but he also understands he’s no stud and that he needs to keep his game up – both in mundane life and in the bedroom – if he is to maintain his station as your preferred, if not exclusive, sexual partner and daily presence in your life.

Then There’s ‘Raoul’. He’s the handsome stranger smiling seductively at you from the end of the bar, or jogging the other way on your early morning run, or sidling up next to you at the work Christmas party when you’ve had just enough to drink. He’s smart and sophisticated, or rugged and jovial, or dark and moody. He catches your eye and you wonder what it feels like to have his hot breath on your neck, his hands on your breasts, and his manhood in your sex. At the moment your eyes meet, it is clear you want him and he wants you. Maybe you hook-up, maybe you don’t. Either way, he’s there in that moment and them gone a little while later.

Finally, there’s ‘Steve’. He’s a bit like Brad in that he does nice things for you and lets you know that if you need a hand moving house, or someone to pick you up from the airport, or help you with that PowerPoint presentation, that he’s ready to do so at a moment’s notice. He’s sweet, dependable, eager-to-please, and… not you thing. He just realise that and so he continues to let you know he’s there in the hope that you’ll look at him afresh.

Kara found this quite amusing, and asked me which stereotype was I for her?

“Well, I’m not ‘Brad’,” I stated, and left it for her to decide which of the others I might be.

Kara must have decided I wasn’t ‘Steve’ either and that I had some ‘Raoul-ish’ qualities because she invited me back to her place with the promise of explaining 3 other stereotypical positions a man might occupy.

In her bedroom, she asked me to stand at the end of her bed while she undressed, propped herself up on some pillows, raised and spread her legs, and started gently teasing herself down there. Understandably, my gaze was drawn to her hand and what it was doing to and between the hairless plump lips of her vulva. My world shrank to that small scene and her sultry voice.

“As I see it, all men in your position also align with 1 of 3 stereotypes.

“First, there’s ‘Wayne’, who likes to think he knows how to give oral pleasure to a woman, but he really has no idea. It’s like he’s never heard of a clitoris let alone where it might be located. He doesn’t know the labia… the folds between them… the entrance to the vagina… the perineum… and the anus can come alive and bath a woman with cascading waves of exquisite pleasure. He just laps away in the general area like a friendly Labrador. When Wayne’s on the job, you kind of need to fake it, or break the mood entirely by offering feedback and guidance.

“Then, there’s ‘Gavin’, who knows about the clitoris, where it is, but not much else. He’s fixated on ‘the man in a boat’ and knocks him about relentlessly. Gavin’s tongue slides up and down, up and down, up and down the ‘keel’ almost rasping the poor fellow from base to tip. Occasionally, he’ll pause to take the measure of what he’s accomplished. Chances are I’ve squirmed a little and enjoyed some pre-orgasmic tremors, but these results still fall short of might have been achieved through including other areas in his ministrations. He’s more likely to get a second invitation to share my bed than Wayne, but it's well short of ‘odds-on’.

“Finally, there’s ‘Jason’. He’s the dedicated student of the bunch. He’s prepared to see just what he can do with all the parts of his mouth, his tongue, of course, but also his teeth, lips, even the stubble on his chin and upper lip. He moves the playground, around testing what happens when each of the swings, slides and roundabouts are ridden in new and interesting ways. And while he’s doing this, Jason is paying attention to my reactions, not racing to a climax, but teasing me with pleasure until the right moment arrives for an ambush that leaves me in breathless spasms…

Kara drew her hand back. Her juices had flowed to bath her sex with a glistening sheen.

“So,” she asked, “are you Wayne, Gavin or Jason?”

“Well,” I said undressing, “I’ve had the odd third invitation.”

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