Midge Gette
Teaching Sex Education

Chapter 1

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.

Winslow felt a general irritation toward Mitch and Gloria Dallas, Jennifer's parents. They never seemed to be around the house, never seemed to converse with the girl. He had exchanged greetings with her a few times in front of the houses, and she seemed a bright girl, endowed with a great amount of innocent charm and a loving nature. He knew that he might be wrong about her relationship with her parents; but he was sure that he was not. Well, let them have their social lives, he thought She was doing all right.

She reached out to change the station on her radio, and his eyes slid along the underneath of her arm and down the sweep into the fullness of her breast, following the arch to its rounded press against the bikini top, noting the indentation below her breast, and down the tautened stretch of her torso with the mellow curvette of her stomach.

It was obvious to him that something was on her mind as she continued to turn the dial back and forth before finally finding something she liked. As the sounds of an electric guitar and organ crashed against one another, she picked up the suntan lotion. He stared with disbelieving elation as she raised up on her elbows to squeeze some of the syrupy liquid into the palm of her hand, her breasts held just above the towel.

He had just seen her naked as the day she was born in her room, but this was different. He grinned, thinking of men at the turn of the century enflamed at the sight of an ankle exposed by a sudden breeze. There was a magical quality about It, a sudden revelation of beauty, the fascination of a magic lantern casting shadows. Lord! but she was beautiful as she massaged her shoulders with the lotion. She bowed her head, her hair a curtain of gold over most of her breasts, making them all the more tantalizing as she looked down at them. She threw her head back, tossing the sunset spray of her hair away, a mischievous grin on her full lips.

She glanced around, seeing no one, and rubbed the lotion onto her breasts. Suddenly, her hand closed and she held the ripe blossom with a slight squeeze. Her eyelids lowered and the pink cushions of her lips parted to frame the pearl white of her teeth within an inviting pursing. Then her hand was away and her forehead was pressed against the rose colored towel, her hair draped around her face in silken waves. Slowly, she laid back down and her face turned to press against her shoulder. Moisture shimmered in her eyes, and her upper teeth indented the fullness of her lower lip.

What was wrong, Winslow wondered. Feeling guilty about squeezing her tit, he guessed. Was she still a virgin, or did she and the boy she dated screw? If they did she wouldn't be acting like this, would she? Of course, he was married and getting it regularly, and yet he was sitting like an adolescent in the dark to watch her. Whatever the cause, he was sure that she was discontented.

It made him feel bad. He wanted to comfort her, to give his ear for her to unburden her thoughts upon. Of course, that wasn't logical, but he still felt that way. Sentimental bastard, he admitted to himself. Damn her parents, where were they? No, she wouldn't want to talk to them about it even if they were there to talk to. Still, she would not be all alone with her thoughts as she now was.

She refastened her top and sat up, gathering her things together to disappear into the house. Winslow heard the front door open and knew his wife Debra had returned. Well, Jenny, hope you get things straightened out, and I'm sorry I can't be of help, he thought as he put the binoculars away. Teenage girls go through all sorts of trials and tribulations, he assured himself. Just part of growing up.

He went out into the living room to join Debra. She smiled as he embraced her, his tongue teasing her ear while his hands cupped her buttocks to bold their loins together. She laughed and their mouths pressed and joined.

Back in her room, Jennifer sat on her bed, irritated with herself. Feeling yourself up in the backyard, she thought. That's brilliant! Just lucky nobody had been around. Well, that decided it; this would be the night.

Be good, Jud, she hoped. Be as fantastic as I think you're going to be, cause I'm horny as hell.

She laid back on the azure coverlet, her hair a weave of sunlight upon the blue. She reached down and scratched her stomach, finding her fingers trailing up and down the indentation along the center of her stretched stomach. The corner of her mouth furled with anger over her own impatience. It was only a few hours till Jud would arrive, only a few hours to survive.

Would she have to sit through a movie first? She wanted to just drive somewhere, to some isolated place, but did not know if she should tell Jud that. Would he think less of her, or would he respect her for her honesty? No, she would have to wait. And her fingers were playing with the bottom of her bikini top.

She sat up suddenly, tense and breathing deeply, her fingers knotted in the bedding. Why were things so difficult? Why did she have to worry about what people thought, about what gossip her parents might hear? Her parents would be angered at the reflection her behavior cast upon them, not concerned about her happiness.

For a year or so she had felt that she hated her parents, but she no longer cared. It was now more a matter of avoiding conflicts, just tolerating their relationship to wait the two and a half years before she would be eighteen and ready to leave for college. They provided a comfortable home life and there was little strife between them, but her father's business and her mother's social life left her on her own the majority of the time. Well, that was all to the good, she thought, since they did not seem to have much to say to one another, anyway.

She tore the strings of her top free and stood, moving into her bathroom with a determined stride. She reached into the shower and turned the water up full force, tempering the icy cold blast with a slight amount of hot Water. She bent to slide the bottoms off and stepped in, feeling the needle point prickle of the water slam against her breasts and shoulders. Her breathing eased a bit, and she turned to let it cover her back.

The yearning ache that had swollen her breasts subsided, and the warm vibration within her nether lips eased. She leaned against the cool tiles and slid down to sit under the cool spray, her back to the wall opposite the shower head. She raised her knees, sliding a wet strand of hair from her eyes, and suddenly felt the fall of the water upon the insides of her thighs and the upturned blonde triangle.

She wanted to stand up, or at least to close her legs and turn them away from the drumming caress. But if she did it would stop, and it felt so good, so tender and soothing. She felt her pubic hair washed sleek against the plump hillock It covered, felt rivulets of water ease down the furrow of her passion pit. So tranquil, adrift under the gliding spill, the water beading like pearls upon the graceful arch of breasts, shimmering on the delicate slopes of her belly. And the burning tremor within her loins eased and cooled, to leave her feeling happily spent.

She had no energy to stand; but it did not matter since no one else was In the house. She wondered dreamily what Jud was doing. Was he as anxious as she, or was he just enjoying a typical Sunday afternoon working on his car? What about all their other dates? Had they had the same impassioning effect on him?

She saw his face clearly, his dark blonde hair a little long, his gray eyes bright under dark brown eyebrows, his nose straight, his mouth firm above a dimpled chin. His body had a lean firmness from years of playing tennis, the hair on his chest, legs and forearms a burnished gold against the sun darkened mahogany of his body. Though not overdeveloped, his muscles were well defined, especially his shoulders and chest; his stomach plated.

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.