Midge Gette: Teaching Sex Education

It was a middle-sized city, thirty miles from the Pacific Ocean. Its nucleus, the inner city, was a gray world shrouded in poverty and smog, surrounded by an outward spiral of suburbs built to flee the rotting core.

A Sunday afternoon, suburban quiet was Interrupted here and there by little league baseball games, by clogged freeway entrances and exits, and a few traffic accidents. Yet, for the most part, there was a sense of spring languidly waking from winter. Couples strolled in parks, children played, husbands watched televised baseball games, and housewives prepared dinners.

In a split-level house on the outer edge of the city, a girl stood at her bedroom window. Her name was Jennifer and she was sixteen years old, a high school junior. Bored with the quiet of the day and restless over her date that evening, she watched two six-year-olds through a lattice of blossoming trees as they tossed a basketball back and forth.

Dressed in a pair of shorts and her brassiere, Jennifer felt confident that the trees blocked her window from outside observation. Not that she really considered it, lost in her thoughts. Her date with Jud that evening overrode all other considerations. Like so many other girls, she had allowed herself to be kissed with great fervor on their first date, and on their second he had been able to manipulate her breasts through her clothing. On their third date his fingers had finally been granted access to the snaps of her bra, and his hands and lips had feasted on her pert breasts. The next time his hands had worked at her loins and buttocks, and her fingers had massaged his hardened prick through his jeans.

Then, on the previous weekend's date, his hands had shifted her loosened clothing and removed her underwear. His hands and mouth had explored her, basking kisses upon her breasts and sliding his fingers into the moist, virginal cusp of her loins. She had taken his swollen prod to slide her fingers up and down Its length, and sucked it into her mouth to kiss and nibble until he began to spasm against her tender grasp, letting his discharge spill onto the floor of his car.

Thus, she had dated Jud for five weeks, falling in love with him' and satisfying herself that she was more to him than an easy lay. He had endured the obstacle course without complaint, convincing her that he was interested in more than the climax.

It was not so much that she was holding her virginity for only one man, or that she considered it a condition to be treasured. As a matter of fact, she had a great desire to divest herself of it, considering her virginity a rather tiresome hindrance. But she did not wish to wake up to find that she had given it to someone who considered her as only an object in which to relieve himself.

Thus, she considered whether she would "go all the way" this time. She knew that she could continue to afford Jud release, and to enjoy their petting for at least another month without being pressed by him. But she wanted him to ball her, she wanted to feel that hard length of flesh within her. That was why she had arranged their date for Sunday night rather than Saturday, not wanting to have to sit through Sunday morning without being able to see him. Monday they could find someplace to go after school, but Sunday…

She shook her blonde mane of hair, not wanting to get bogged down in thought She turned away from the window and crossed to her dresser. She inspected her reflection in the mirror, noting the gold-flecked brown eyes with their heavy lashes above the swells of high cheekbones, the graceful nose, and the lush lips. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting her upturned breasts free, the pink nipples like little mushroom caps, rising from the milky white as if they were separate, miniature breasts.

Her body had a vibrant fullness that pressed against her lithe young form, giving the impression that warm honey coursed through her veins, throbbing for release. Her belly was a firm contour that held a deep navel, sweeping out to full hips and into lush loins.

She unzipped her shorts and let them drop to the floor, sliding her thumbs into the waistband of her mint-green bikini briefs. She bent, sliding them down and raising one leg to free her foot, and then the other to kick the wisp of nylon away. Early sunbathing had given her body a light golden tan, interrupted by the white of her breasts and by a strip of white that bloomed from the outsides of her copper thatch to slide up toward her belly, leveling off with the juncture of her upper thighs and her torso to encircle her hips, and glide down under the soft cheeks of her backside. It stopped at the middle of her abdomen, a half inch above both the honey plume and the cleft of her derriere, and an inch below the twin dimples at the small of her back.

Her legs were long and firm, a fine down glistening on her thighs. She had great poise, acquired from years of dance classes, and her body promised joy and presented beauty.

Smiling at the mirror image, she enjoyed the view of herself. She knew that there were women more beautiful, both nude and clothed, and so felt little if any egotism. Rather, she viewed herself objectively, as if appreciating the beauty of a serene landscape or of a thoroughbred, happy with the form she inhabited.

Other eyes watched Jennifer, eyes that gave no thought to flower strewn fields against sunsets, or to the rippling sleekness of mares. The eyes, pressed to a pair of binoculars, licked at the rose buds of her nipples, caressed the flow of her belly, fondled the rounded uplift of her rump, and ravaged the burgundy thicket of her underbelly.

Winslow Bass sat in his darkened bedroom with field glasses resting on a displaced slat of the Venetian blinds that hid him from her sight He watched Jennifer rummage through a drawer and extract two strips of bright orange cloth. He smiled, remembering the bikini well. It set off her darkening tan so nicely, complimenting the honeyed flame of her hair. Her stomach rippled tantalizingly as she bent to pull the bottoms up, her firm breasts cutting demure arches in the air, and then they were encased in the top, two small triangles of cloth held by a thin string around the back, and two more that tied at the nape of her neck. The outer and inner swells showed invitingly, and he could almost see the light tan freckles scattered upon the valley between.

She picked up sunglasses, a squeeze bottle of suntan lotion, a towel, and a portable radio. He followed her to the door of her room, and then swung the powerful lenses to the back of the house. She appeared a moment later, spread out her towel, laid down upon her stomach after applying the lotion, and her flesh glimmered with a sun caressed sheen. She reached back and untied the strings, and the triangles kissed the rose colored towel, and Winslow saw her breasts swell out at the sides. Her flanks danced for a moment as she shifted her legs; and then she was still.

Winslow had first observed Jennifer in her bedroom just before her fifteenth birthday, a few weeks after he and his wife had moved into their house. He had seen the barely perceptible rises of her breasts, the nipples standing out farther than they did, swell and lift till they stood like pear-shaped minarettes. He had watched the long legs take shape, and the boyish flanks and hips bloom into the sauciest fanny he bad ever seen.

Whenever his wife was out for one of her various activities or shopping, he would check Jennifer's windows. Such pleasant viewing as he was being currently afforded was rare, brief glimpses of her in underwear or quickly changing clothes being more common.

His wife was a good woman, attractive and an excellent partner in lovemaking, and he loved her dearly. But there was something about viewing Jennifer that he really enjoyed. If anything, it made him all the more eager to join his wife in bed, so he felt no guilt since no one was any the worse off.