I heard this story from my maternal grandmother, Marcie, who was a student in the mid-sixties in South Africa.

'I'm telling you this, Jacky, because you need a proper compass in life. I did the same for your mother and it has served her well.' She grinned a little wickedly and added, 'The bottom line is to avoid the straight and narrow, and wander down the alleys in byways of life to pick up experience. I've seen so many of my friends who now regret that they did not use their opportunities even when they were offered to them on a silver platter. What I am advocating is, you make the opportunities and then grab them with both hands.'

Marcie had grown up in small town in the Western Cape of South Africa, hence she knew all about 'upright and uptight' Christians. She was grateful that her own family was well-to-do and liberal to boot, hence she knew all about the birds and the bees long before she could get stung. When she planned to go to varsity, there was a little family conference at which it was decided that she would reside in private digs, because she would not fit into the rigid religious regime which then prevailed in the varsity hostels.

For her first year, she was given a scooter to scoot around to class, or wherever her fancy would take her; she would have preferred a little car, but the varsity had a strict rule against first-year students with four-wheel transport. She was slated to lodge with a young family (mom, dad, and twin girls aged three) trying to make ends meet by taking in a student, but then daddy was found astride the maid and got booted for that little pleasure. Mommy then filed for divorce, the house went on the market and the new owner did not want to accommodate any students.

There was a frantic scrabble to find an alternative, but literally three days before registration, she finally found a place with the Patterson family. Well, not really a family, because it was just him and her and no patter of little feet in the offing. It was only after she had settled in that Marcie realized that she had landed up in a home where they seriously believed that sex was the original sin. They could have joined the Apostle Paul, Girolamo Savonarola, and John Calvin, all three with a bee in the bonnet, in their campaign to stamp out sex and the human race, with no questions asked. The only way for the Pattersons was an immaculate conception in order to raise a sinless child.

Arnold Patterson regularly sought medical advice because he chronically suffered from what schoolboys would call 'blue balls', i.e., lack of sexual relief, either by hand or with the aid of loving lips (upper or lower). Touching himself 'down there', except when he had to handle his tool to piss, was regarded as masturbation - also called onanism after the biblical character who did not want to raise a son for his brother in the latter's widow - which abstention was (strangely enough) severely frowned on by God and the ecclesiastical authorities of that age. (By contrast, men who have tried to impregnate their brother's wives in the modern age have been severely frowned upon by modern ecclesiastical bodies.) However, occasionally, Arnold had involuntary emissions at night, usually with a pillow between his legs. This kept wife Patricia constantly fighting with the housemaid for using starch on the sheets and pillow cases, which was as constantly denied.

The family doctor was an old hand who knew a paying customer when he met him or her. His regular prescription was a purgative which caused Arnold to shit himself just as regularly and served to take his mind off his blue balls and rampant erection. But, fortunately for Arnold, one day he had to consult the other partner in the medical practice, who had a better solution. He prescribed a simple body lotion which had to be rubbed onto the penis when it was 'hard'.

'It is best to rub this in quite vigorously by first coating the organ properly with the ointment, taking a firm grip on the organ - your hand should be clasped around the erect member, you understand - and then move your hand quite vigorously up and down. Don't be concerned if you then have an emission of sperm. That is only to be expected of a man with your virility.'

The last bit was obviously a bit of soft-soaping. This way Arnold was given official sanction to spank his monkey, and as this was 'medical advice', it overrode anything that could be preached from a pulpit or gleaned from the pages of a book. Arnold even jokingly specified that the doctor's prescription for the cream should be buried with him, so that he would have proof when he gets to the pearly gates.

Meanwhile, Marcie had picked up enough 'experience' in her short stint as a teenager. She had been 'necked' and 'petted' when the opportunity had arisen while she was still at school. That had proved to be great fun! She loved the pulsing prick in her hand and the escalating ecstasy in her loins. She learnt to read the signs of imminent ejaculation and knew to speed up the frigging at that crucial moment.

Patricia, on the other hand, belonged to a church ladies' circle which met every Saturday morning to gossip; however, the official reason was that they were doing Bible study and 'praying for the nation'. She toddled off to her meeting at half past nine, leaving her husband sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, paging through a woman's magazine prior to his weekly cream treatment. The bit of cleavage shown now and again by the models was usually enough to cause an erection, where after he could 'get to work' to get it flaccid again.

It was February, the time of the year when the Cape buffets its inhabitants with a cloudless sky and a blistering hot southeasterly wind. Marcie had crawled into bed at half past one that Saturday morning after a pretty wild night at a barn dance organized by the local pony club. She woke up after Patricia had left for her meeting and wandered towards the kitchen, clad only in her shorty pajamas, in search of a cup of coffee, ham, and eggs.

As she passed the door of the bathroom, she caught the rapid up-and-down motion of Arnold's hand and came to a halt. Arnold was already in extremis, red in face, pulling fiercely, to be followed four minutes later by the tremendous relief when the spunk spurted in a big arc and landed on the floor. The sight of that rigid joy-stick and the smell of spunk excited Marcie; it was the automatic movement of her hand to her mons which Arnold caught a glimpse of out of the corner of his eye. He had been so engrossed in the 'treatment' that he had not noticed her before; now he came to very abruptly.

The problem was, his pants and briefs were around his ankles, and there was no way he could 'cover his shame' in time; anyway, he would first need toilet paper to clean himself up. At the same time, he was staring at Marcie in her almost-transparent nightie, and his joystick jumped to attention again! 'Oh, Jesus, save me!' he prayed quietly, draped the toilet paper over his prick and gathered his wits. 'It's a medical treatment, dear. I do it once a week, on Saturdays.'

Marcie smiled and asked, 'What does the treatment entail?'

Arnold, still fiddling with the toilet paper to cover most of himself, began to explain, and Marcie said, 'I see. I am really an expert with that, you know' she added with a lascivious smirk. 'I won't mind helping you, Uncle Arnold, like a nurse would.'

His eyes were flitting between her perky tits and the dark bush in her loins, peeking at him from underneath her cupped hand, which had not yet moved away from her mons during their exchange. Marcie noticed Arnold drooling slightly, and she read the signs right, as she stepped forward, removing her hand from her mound and took hold of his organ, and it started to play a carillon of its own. She viewed the purple-headed monster from different angles, and it looked to her like an all-day sucker, so she kissed the head. She had also done that the night before in various alleys.

Arnold sighed the sigh of the contented, as she settled on her knees before him. She savored his musky smell as her face approached his member, and in the air, she could make out her own arousal as well. She found it fun to excite him by running her tongue around the hood and then up and down the shaft. Arnold's blood pressure was rising rapidly and there was no stemming his tide: he exploded right in her face, sending streaks of cum flying over her lips, mouth, cheeks and hair.

'Naughty! Naughty!' she smiled, as she got up while reaching for some toilet paper. 'You're much too quick on the trigger! Let's try that again. I barely had a chance to administer the ointment!'

She used the toilet paper to wipe her face and his prick, then decided to treat him some more by removing the top of her nightie to expose her cuddly cones. Arnold swallowed hard three times in rapid succession. They were beautiful tits, and right here, almost above him, he could feel the heat radiate from her soft flesh! Dare he touch? He dared, and she did not slap him. In fact, she bent over him so he could take her nipples in his mouth, first one, then the other. She felt her nipples instantly harden as he released them from his mouth with a wet suctioning noise.

The main mast of his ship of life was rigid, and when she then gripped it, he went sailing into heaven. It was an educated hand that tossed him off. Meanwhile, Marcie's other hand had snaked its way back down to her ever-moistening crotch, working on her own orgasm.

It was the first time ever that Arnold had seen a woman climax, and he wondered if there was perhaps something wrong with Marcie! Patricia had never even been close to those shrieks and convulsions! Maybe it was demon possession, of which there was so much talk in the Bible? But when Marcie pulled down her panties to wipe herself clean, he discovered the demon in himself! Like the fabulous phoenix, his cock had risen from its ashes and was shaking its head like a galloping horse. Marcie put it to rest again with a splendid, slow blowjob while he had his hand stroking her bum, even daring to toy with her forbidden backdoor as he did so.

Marcie, who was already on birth control, gave the ritual some serious thought during the next week, and the following Saturday, she went to him in the bedroom clad only in a bra and panties. Arnold was already stark naked and drooling because the previous afternoon, Marcie had indicated what she had in mind. She allowed him to remove her two garments, then took charge. She had done soixante-neuf a couple of times with her lovers, and today she was going to give Arrie the treat of his life. She had to coach him a bit, but once they were in position, his tongue found its way into her carnal crevice, while she enveloped his cock and slowly but surely brought him to a climax. She ended by squatting over his face and rubbing her clit against his nose and spraying him with her love juice.

Arnold would have been satisfied with that, but Marcie was only halfway with her program. The toilet paper was applied, the cock resuscitated by guiding his hand to her crotch, then Marcie squatted over him; she guided his cock to the entrance of her pussy, then lowered herself to feel it cleave its way deeper into her. They were both transported into heaven then, with Marcie doing most of the work. Her orgasm came first and with that was the spark that caused Arnold to ejaculate. She stayed on top of him until their breathing was normal, then she quietly left, carrying her bra and panties to her room, and took a shower.

Lunchtime, Patricia found her husband as chuffed as the cat which had stolen the cream, but she could not think of anything that could have caused it. On Sunday, after the morning service and lunch, they betook themselves to the bedroom, but instead of lying down with the Sunday papers, Arnold was tugging at her clothes and fondling her breasts and buttocks. She was shocked into her foundation garments, but... but there was something exiting in it! His hands were up her dress now, bullying her butt, while his head was between her breasts. Oh my god, he had hold of her knickers now and was pulling them down! In broad daylight! What next? What would the neighbours think? What about Marcie?

In awe, she watched him undo his pants and drop them on the floor. Glory be to god, 'it' was hard, and it was pressing against her knees, forcing them apart, going higher, coming closer to the sacred spot, paused a moment, then thrust forward, rather violently; then he started pumping, furiously. It excited her, and, if she was horrified at first, the horror gradually turned into pleasure and by the time Arnold ejaculated, she had found bliss herself.

She was in a post-orgasmic coma when Arnold moved her body so that her legs were dangling over the side. He pushed her thighs apart and started licking her pussy. Oh, Marcie had taught him well! His tongue first toyed with the smaller labia, then probed the pussy and touched the clit. A delicious demon was awakened in Patricia's loins. Oh, god, it was wonderful! She was reminded of the forked tongue of a snake darting in and out while the excitement escalated. Involuntarily, she started yelling as her orgasm approached, then clamped Arnold's head between her thighs when the climax came. When she finally released him, he gripped his cock and tossed off, spraying his cum over her pussy and belly.

'Oh, my god, Arnold, what's happened?' she asked in amazement.

'Sex, woman! That's what happened! I fucked you and then I ate you and I masturbated.'

'Oh, Arnold, what will the dominee say?'

'Do you want to invite him for a free lesson?'

'Oh, Arnold, I don't know what to make of you anymore!'

'Patricia, we've been wasting ourselves in pious piffle. From now on we're going to fuck every day and you have to be prepared for it, otherwise I'll find another cunt for my cock!'

Patricia was crimson. 'Such language!' But it was a feeble protest. After years of abstaining, she had suddenly begun to realize the potential for great joy in her own body - and Arnold's cock now stirred up lustful thoughts in her... In point of fact, Patricia had resuscitated all her amorous teenage dreams.

Monday evening she came out of the bath wrapped in a towel only, when Arnold stormed in, propelled her to bed and screwed her. In her mind, he was instantly transformed into a dashing cavalier, his sword pointed at her mid-section, and she was the captive slave girl who had to succumb to the master's whim for a wham. This was the stuff dreams are made of! She screamed, nor for help, but for more!

On Wednesday she was the beautiful princess, Snow White, held captive in the castle tower by an evil queen, when her knight in shining armour - it looked very much like naked flesh - stormed the fortress and took her by force, after killing the evil queen with his bare hands, as his sword was to be employed for a nobler purpose.

On Friday, she was a fugitive from justice on a pirate ship and the captain required payment, at the point of his sword; she paid the price for her release... and became his willing captive forever after. In one single week all her previous pious protestant protestations were pulverized; her pussy, rather than her conscience, would be pricked in future!

On Saturday, there was no need for Marcie to minister to Arnold anymore, because he was getting 'serviced' very regularly now, so much so that he could dispense with the doctor's cream treatment altogether. At times, Patricia wanted to be tied to the bedpost - as a substitute for a tree in the forest - and 'taken by force'; at other times, she would sit on a high stool in the den and play the role of a bar prostitute. Then there was the randy school master and the naughty girl who did not wear her knickers to class, so she had to stay after school and take six of the best, spread over the next few days. Their sex life had suddenly become alive!

Sunday afternoon, she was ravished again and then asked, 'What happened, Arnold? I feel like I've been reborn!'

'Marcie happened, Patty!'

'What do you mean?'

Arnold told all, and Patricia smiled. 'So,' she thought, 'the little filly had screwed my husband? Thank god for such a ministering angel who has opened a new world to us!

'We had good times after that, Jacky,' my granny concluded. 'My boyfriends were allowed into my room and occasionally we would have a little orgy, with Patty getting screwed by my current boyfriend and Arrie fucking me, all of us on the carpet in the lounge. That's my advice to you: never pass up a good fuck!'