I take a deep breath, “Once I have become a good kisser, you will strip naked and let me examine you. You will show me where everything is, so I know what it looks like and how it feels.” Even after the second part, I saw that talking was getting easier. “I see what you are doing now. You are normalizing me to the idea.”
“Yes, got it in one. See, you’re learning already. Right, where were we? Mmmm, after we are happy with that, we can start on stimulating me.” She changes tack a little, “how do you think you can do that?”
“Oh, umm, I guess things like sucking your nipples and fingering you?”
“Well, there’s more to it than that. Like kissing the neck and possibly cunnilingus. You will be taught to listen to me as you go.”
“What’s cunnilingus?”
“Oral sex,” she looks across at me as my eyes go wide. “Are you open to that sort of thing, or does licking a vagina not appeal to you?”
I sit there thinking; it’s not something I had considered. “I guess I can always stop if I don’t like it, right?”
“Oh god, yes, if you feel uncomfortable about anything, you can say no. Any sexual activity must be mutual, and that goes with anyone. Am I clear with that?”
I nod my head, “that makes me feel much better.”
“Okay, we will have the same conversation, but increasingly more graphic.” She turns to me again, “and why I think about it, can you call me Jill only when we are alone? I nod, knowing how challenging calling her Jill is.
The conversation is cut there when we turn into the school road.
On the way home, it wasn’t long before Mrs…..Jill was talking dirty to me again. “So, Rob, what are we going to be doing on Monday?”
It takes a moment for my brain to click into what she is talking about. “Oh right, Monday, we will be kissing passionately using our tongues. Our goal is to heighten your arousal, making your vaginal fluids run.”
“What else can you say to make it sound more……natural?”
“What do you mean?”
“Most guys don’t say things like the vagina or vaginal fluids; it’s too textbook.”
“Oh, should I call it your pussy or cunt?”
“I don’t like the word cunt; it’s vulgar. You need to try and keep it less crass-like pussy. You call also use beaver or snatch, I suppose.”
This is all a little surreal at the moment as I absorb what I’m being told. “Okay, so we will be snogging to make your pussy wet would do?”
“Yes, but a little more detail, but you’re getting the idea.”
We carried on all the way home, and for the rest of the week, she even got me to tell her how much I was looking forward to fucking her doggy style.
Mr. Peters was only sorry for a couple of days, and it wasn’t long before the drinking started again. Friday night, I have a walking companion again. We walk in relative silence until we get to the top of the hill, looking over the town.
Sitting on the bench listening to the low hum of the Friday night traffic, Mrs. Peters turns to me. “Rob, are you okay with what we will be doing Monday and what we talked about in the car?” She is talking in a low voice just in case someone is within earshot.
“Yes, I think so. My only hesitation was your relationship, but the fact that this will help your marriage has settled my nerves. The added bonus is it will be like a lesson, so not just sex,” I reply at a similar volume.
“That’s good, but I want you to know that if it all becomes too much for you or you don’t feel you can go through with it, then I will understand.”
“That goes for you too,” I say. “There again, I get to lose my cherry,” I add before a comfortable silence takes over. We sit there overlooking the town with its orange glow. “Can I ask what happens if you don’t get pregnant the first month?”
“I’m not sure; I think that will be for a later conversation.” There’s another silence before she adds, “more than one month will stretch the lies I’m telling myself.”
“Is there anything I can do to increase the odds?”
“For next week, maybe the only place you can cum is in my pussy?”
“What, no masturbating?”
“It would help to avoid it just for one week.” I pull a face, and she lefts out a laugh. “Why, how often do you wank?”
“Three or four times….”
“A week?”
“No, a day.” Her eyes open wider.
“Wow, that’s a lot. How hard would it be to stop?”
“I don’t know; I’ve never tried. You do realize I will cum a lot easier if I’ve not knocked one off before.”
“That won’t matter; we will be doing it at least a couple of times a day.”
“Oh, right.” Silence falls again before Jill stands and waits for me to get moving. We walk back down the hill, with Archie staying closer than usual.
******
“Hey Ernie, are you on this planet or what?” Andy asks as we sit in the cafe across from the cinema.
“What A-hole?”
“We were asking if you’re up to see Rocky next week?”
“Well, derrrr. You know I’ve been on about it longer than anyone.”
“We know, it was the same with the breakfast club, and what a pile of crap that was.”
“Oh, come on, when Simple Minds cut in at the end, it was classic.”
“No, you just have a thing for Molly Ringworm.”
“Ringwald, how many bloody times do I need to say.”
“I like Molly Ringwald,” Clive says from nowhere.
“What, oh for fucks sake. Are we up for Rocky 4 next week or not?”
“Yeah, or coarse,” Nick and I reply at the same time. “Jinx,” Nick shouts.
“How old are you?” Clive says a bit louder so a couple of girls waiting to be served would hear.
“Six months older than you,” I retorted.
“Anyway, Rob, what is up with you lately? You seem to be in a different dimension.”
I have to think quickly, but unexpectedly Andy comes to my rescue. “He’s worried about Jenny Lake. Her freekoid of a father found their letters again.”
“You’re shitting me; when did this happen?”
“This is old news, didn’t I tell you, Nick?”
“No, you flippin didn’t.” He says, looking a bit pissed.
“It happened when you were off with genital warts or something,” Andy said a bit too loudly again.
“I had Glandular Fever, which had nothing to do with my balls, thank you very much.” Andy and I just burst out laughing as Nick goes bright red as the girls walk past, staring at him like he’s an alien.
“At least I’ve done things where I could get genital warts,” Nick hits back.
“The pervy toilets in the park don’t count,” I say. The girls two tables away burst out laughing. We turn, and they go red, being caught eavesdropping. I recognize them from the ones that Nick was staring at when we were here last.
“Anyway, you dweebs, I need to get home,” Clive says. “Mum wants to go over grans this evening. Clive’s gran lives about twenty miles away near Folkestone down the 20, which is the catalyst for us all to leave.
I’m the last to get my coat on and walk out. As I pass the girls on the table, I see them looking, and I don’t know why, but I say, “ladies.”
“You’re Rob Johnson, aren’t you?”
I stop and half turn back, “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Looking at me with a nervous smile is a blond girl. She’s around my age with freckles dotted on her nose. She has braces on her teeth, and her cheeks are quite chubby. The one thing that grabs me, though, is her eyes. They are deep green and draw you in.
“You walk my gran’s dog, Archie, every night.” She says, breaking my gaze.