Midge Gette: Teaching Sex Education

She wanted him there between her legs, the water streaming down over him. She wanted to glove her hands In soap and work his prick between her hands until it hardened and pressed up free of the white froth. She wanted his tender hands and lips upon and within her, his hard tool steaming the envelope of her virginity free, releasing her. And the pellets of water drove against the softness of her splayed loins.

Three miles from Jennifer Dallas' home, in a similar neighborhood, Jud Troy sat in his room trying to study for a Chemistry examination. Every few minutes his mind drifted from organic structures to the more appealing structure of Jennifer. Finally, he closed the textbook and tilted his chair onto its back legs, his knees pressed against the desk.

He wished that he was out on the tennis court, a good hard set not allowing for thoughts unconnected with the game. He listened to the rhythm of voices and music from the television set in the living room. His parents and little sister were deeply absorbed in a Bogart film, and he sat alone in his room thinking of Jennifer against the background of Peter Lorre and Sidney Greenstreet's voices.

Would she let him make love to her tonight, or would he have to be satisfied with her relieving manipulations? It was okay, an improvement over their early dates where he had felt he was about to explode, where only masturbation after returning home allowed him any satiation of his need. But he wanted to make love to her.

Could they do it without her getting pregnant, and could she get birth control pills? It was just something parents did not want to think or talk about. As for himself, he wanted neither an abortion nor a forced marriage. He loved Jenny, but he was only seventeen and she sixteen, and he had seen enough bad marriages in the world around him, his parents being rare exceptions. He was not sure if he would be interested in legalized marriage even after high school. His older brother and his woman had been together for two years, and it seemed that their freedom from social and legal obligations, having only their love and friendship to keep them together, made them aware that if they let things slide it would be over and gone.

Did Jennifer know he was a virgin? Did he appear clumsy and unsure? He felt confident and sure with her, felt whole, but he did not know how he appeared in her eyes. Most of his friends had slept with their girlfriends, or what were once known as "bad girls," or with prostitutes.

Jud had progressed this far with two girls before Jennifer, but had never gone beyond heavy petting. Though highly attractive to women, Jud was shy and had not felt deeply enough about either girl to put himself In a position to be rejected. As well, his brother had told him about the furtive tussle of his own first lay, and the embarrassed silence that had followed. Jud wanted something more, and he felt that he could have it with Jennifer.

It was several hours yet before their date, and he had a full erection that was straining against his jeans as if trying to escape. Whacking off would make it easier to keep from climaxing within Jennifer, he rationalized. If the opportunity presented itself.

Nobody would come in without knocking. Shit! he thought, If you're going to do It, do It. He stood and closed the door silently. He looked down to see the long press against his crotch and upper thigh. He unzipped the fly and twisted his prick free, letting it jut out from the slit of cloth. Just like if were sticking through a cunt, he grinned. Except that it stood in midair instead of in the warm embrace of a woman's loins. Oh, well, maybe tonight, he hoped. Maybe tonight.

He opened his desk drawer and pulled a girlie magazine out from under several notebooks, and moved toward the bathroom. Did everybody need some kind of visual stimulation to masturbate? Maybe It was easier after having slept with a woman, but he felt foolish sitting totally alone having an orgasm. There was something that even a photo of a smiling woman added, a sense of some communication.

As he sat down, he spread the magazine out on the floor, letting his jeans fall around his ankles. He had found a photo of a model who bore a slight resemblance to Jennifer. Standing on a sandy beach, the woman smiled directly out of the picture. As he moved his fist up and down his prod, he wondered why they painted out the crotches of women in most of the magazines. Until he had talked to his brother about the facts of life, finding that he could converse with him easier than he could with his parents, he had wondered if that was the way women really looked. And if so, where one entered other than through the ass.

The model went out of focus as perspiration glistened on his forehead, and the slight sag of her breasts and the ten years that separated her from Jennifer grew indistinct. He worked the flesh up and down the hardened weight, and his eyes closed to the sudden flush of blood that hit his face and rattled his breath. He lifted and let the ejaculation shoot down Into the toilet bowl.

Breathing heavily, he sagged back down, and after a minute or so stood to clean things up. He drifted back into his room, returned the magazine to the drawer, and fell onto his bed. Would Jennifer be insulted if he suggested going straight to the beach instead of seeing a movie first?

Outside, the chirp of the lawn sprinkler joined the hum of the television's voices to lull him into a half sleep.

Debra Bass' hands clutched at Winslow's sides as he swung down into her piston like, his mouth flicking at her hardened, brownish-orange nipples. Her hips thrashed back and forth, throwing the plunging prod across her clit as he drove in and out. Her mouth opened, her lips pulling across her teeth, and she groaned with pleasure. Then her loins began to leap spastically beneath him and he felt himself being pumped. Their bodies arched to one another as they moaned at the searing flash of their joint climax, and they froze for several moments before Winslow lowered down to embrace her. Her lips parted under his and his tongue swam in her mouth. Slowly, they rolled over, still breathing deeply. He smiled over at Debra and pushed himself up onto one elbow.

"Forgot the towel," he mumbled.

She reached out to slide her fingers behind his head and return his face to hers. They kissed again, lovingly probing. She squeezed his shrinking tool, and he stood to get the towel When he returned she was dozing, the sheet furled around one leg.

Drying himself, he looked at the still firm beauty of her, her full breasts barely sagging, her stomach and thighs still tight He slid the towel under her backside, softly cleaning the droplets of sperm from the sheet and her dark brown thicket.

He lit a cigarette and stretched with satisfaction. His eyes fell on the closed blinds, and he wondered how Jennifer was doing. With a backward glance toward Debra, he parted the blades to see Jennifer moving from her bathroom to her bedroom. Dressed in a sable colored terry cloth robe, she toweled her freshly washed hair. Winslow smiled at the gentle expression of childhood upon her face. He had obviously been worried about nothing, he told himself. Kids, they've always got the world In the palm of their hand, with an occasional little problem to get really worked up over.

He turned and looked at Debra, the rich contours of her body tinted sepia in the half light of the room, her hair a swirl of moonlight around her smiling face, gentled in sleep. Well, he didn't have it too bad himself, and got back in bed. Debra curled up along his side, her eyes flickering open for a moment to direct her head to the hollow of his shoulder. Then she was asleep again, and he felt himself drifting off too, content.

Jud cut the engine of his car and looked up at Jennifer's house, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He opened the door finally and moved up the walk to ring the bell. After a minute, the door opened and Gloria, Jennifer's mother, smiled out at him, holding the door wide.