Jackson Robard: Sex-education class

But when Wayne returned, smiling happily with his ice-cold bottle of soda clutched in his hand, Joan bit into the soft full flesh of her lower lip, once again tormented by maddening desire. God, it was out of the question, she told herself as she drank again. She just couldn't allow herself to give in to her cravings for him! It was begging for disaster, and after all of the promises she'd made after Dayton and managed to keep, she had to fight it! Damn, damn, damn, she'd hoped the brandy would help settle her, but instead it almost seemed as if it were having an opposite effect on her…

Wayne Conroy sank down on the couch again and took a long pull on the soda. Then he said, "You… you don't mind if I ask you something, Miss Frazer?"

"What?" Joan said, coming out of her own thoughts to hear him. "Oh, no. No, not at all, Wayne. That's what teachers are for."

"Well, gee, it's about what we're learning in the sex class," he said, squirming with childish embarrassment. "Ma keeps telling me that sex is bad. That I'll loose all my teeth and go mad if I… I fool around with myself."

"Masturbate?" Joan said, unable to stop herself.

"Y-Yes, I guess that's what it's called." Wayne blushed a crimson color now and wriggled even more on the couch, the soda pop bottle in his lap, held there by both hands. The bottle looks just like a giant glass penis, Joan caught herself thinking, and then she shivered and turned away, horrified at the lewdness she had pictured in her mind. "But you tell us it's normal, Miss Frazer," the boy went on in an awkward voice. "Just about everybody does it, and it's just a natural thing to do. Gee, I get confused."

"Don't be, Wayne. It's simply a matter that facts are finally winning out over superstition. For centuries people believed certain things because there wasn't any way of actually finding out if they were true or not. Now there are ways, and scientists have proven with studies and experiments that lots of the old beliefs are false. Boys and girls masturbate, and so do lots of adults. If what your mother believes actually was the case, why almost everybody in the world would be running around crazy and without any teeth."

Wayne laughed at the imaginary scene. "Yeah, that would be pretty funny, all right."

"That's why the state has decided on sex education courses," Joan continued. "Too many parents either don't teach anything at all about sex, or if they do, they teach myths and falsehoods that give their children the wrong idea about what's right and wrong."

"Well, gee, then what we saw in the movie today, when the guy went down on his girl – that's okay?"

"If they both want it. Passion is a very strong thing."

"Pastor Quigley says things like that are sins and only animals do it."

"Humans are animals, Wayne, at least when it comes to how our sex is set up." Joan moved toward one of the windows, feeling the moisture begin again between her tightly pressed thighs. She involuntarily squeezed her buttocks together to quiet the lascivious tingle that was building in her loins. God, if only Wayne wouldn't talk about sex, she groaned to herself, it only made matters worse for her to control! Every word they spoke made her remember the film she'd viewed less than an hour previously. How vividly came that final love-making scene to her mind again, the camera clearly showing the beautiful naked boy's thick, virile penis pumping into the soft, hair-fringed folds of his bride's vagina. The girl's face had been contorted into the most depraved picture of ecstasy Joan could possibly imagine. God, how she must have felt, Joan found herself thinking. And for such a long time I haven't felt that way myself…

"Gee," Wayne said in inexperienced awe, "that girl sure loved what he was doing to her."

Joan drained the brandy in her glass and stepped quickly to the bottle for another shot. "That's… that's what love is all about, Wayne, as you'll discover some day. Love is making people happy."

"Have you ever made love, Miss Frazer?"

Joan almost dropped the glass in her hand at the innocence of the question. She turned around to stare at Wayne, completely unable to find the words to diplomatically answer his blatancy, and was instantly aware of the boy's eyes fastened upon her body again. Joan fought down the almost irresistible impulse to tell him that yes, she had made love, and had made numerous boys just like him happy in the process. She desperately wished she could tell him that she wanted him to fill her aching, empty vagina with his virile young penis so that they could both enjoy each other as the couple in the film had. But she knew that she didn't dare, and that she had to end this acutely arousing conversation before her urges became totally untamable!

"L-look, Wayne," she said, breathing harshly, "I think you'd better go. I… I want to get out of this old work dress and into something more comfortable."

"Gosh, Miss Frazer, shouldn't I have asked you that? About making love? I'm sorry if I said something wrong." The boy's worried voice was on the verge of breaking into tearful anguish. "You want me to go? I hope I didn't make you mad." He peered nervously over the neck of the soda-pop bottle as he took another swallow nervously, and then moved as if to get up off the couch.

Joan watched him shift uncertainly on the edge of the couch. Though he acted as if he could be willing to leave at her command, the helplessly excited teacher could feel his eyes were still glued upon her, staring ravenously at her generously curved body. She could sense that the last remaining fragments of her will-power were rapidly dwindling from her mind, and then she heard a soft, sultry feminine voice she barely recognized as her own begin to speak.

"No, you didn't make me mad, Wayne. You're more than welcome to stay and finish your soda if you like. I'll only be a minute in the bedroom."

The boy stared happily at her for a moment, as though unable to believe his good fortune, and then quickly scooted against the back of the couch. Joan was visibly trembling now from the force of the delicious erotic sensations that were uncontrollably rippling through her nerves, and no longer did she even care whether or not the boy could see the agitation caused by his presence. The only thing of which she was sure now was the sexual current that was jumping like electrical lightning between their two bodies, and her mind was momentarily filled with visions of shameless plans to seduce the young fifteen year-old who sat staring openly at her. Her gaze fell to his faded blue jeans, and the sight of his crotch filled her with still greater passion that both thrilled and terrified her. Bulging out against the soft, washed-out fabric, the older woman could see a stiff, slender form pressing up and outward, and then she ran her eyes over the rest of his slim, virile form, coming to rest again on his face in which confusion and youthful lust so clearly showed. She tipped the brandy glass to her lips and drained its contents for a fourth time, and then walked hurriedly out of the room.

The bedroom door firmly closed behind her, she quickly, almost frantically, began to undress. She couldn't have stayed in the same room with Wayne another second, she thought miserably as she hung her spring dress on a hanger in the closet. Another moment and she'd have attacked him where he sat, and coming in here on the pretext of changing clothes had been the only answer. But what on earth had possessed her to say the boy could stay? He'd all but offered to leave, and then she had insisted that he wait for her to return. What was the matter with her this afternoon? Oh God, she knew… she knew all too well what was the matter with her as she stood on the circular throw rug before the small bureau. She looked down at her brassiere-encased breasts and then down the smooth curve of her exposed belly to the thinly-clothed triangle of her pubic mound, and she could feel the inflamed center of her loins throbbing violently in answer to her own tormenting question. She could feel her vaginal lips tingling madly against the soft silkiness of her gossamer panties, and her nipples growing pebble-hard, pressing hotly out against the suddenly abrasive clinging material as her full curving breasts heaved high and swelled with the sweet agony of her ever-mounting desires, and she knew. Oh God, how she knew!