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Subject: {ASSM} new: "Educating Jeanette" (MF cons first - young adult)
Date: Fri, 2 Jun 2000 04:10:15 -0400
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* This is a work of fiction.
* This work contains graphic sexual depictions. If you don't like
graphic sexual depictions, stop reading here and don't torture yourself or
me.
* I did not send you this story. If you found it in your
child's/husbands/wife's/student's mailbox, they are subscribing to a
newsgroup dedicated to sexual fiction, or are getting mail from someone who
is.
* You may not copy of forward any part of this work without express
permission from the author. Educating Jeanette - by whognu@hotmail.com
Part 1
The year I was living in Greensville was one of the best I can remember.
Though I've never considered myself overly handsome, it just happened that
during that year I had more luck with women then I have ever had before or
since.
I was twenty-two, just starting to fill out, and I guess I'd just
outgrown the boyish lankiness that most of my friends had long since left
behind. I'm about five feet, nine inches tall and at the time weighed in
at around one hundred forty pounds. I have always had broad shoulders and
a pretty wide build, and at that time in my life I was still pretty thin. I
had an unusual shade of light brown hair with some blonde blended in, which
tended to curl at the edges. I wore this in a pathetic (looking back) kind
of kid's ponytail that never really grew in enough to be impressive. I
have thick lips, very large blue eyes, and thick eyebrows. Imagine
Baryshnikov (though not as model perfect a face) with a heavier build and
no fashion sense. To complete the picture, I have hands and feet which are
very large, but not absurdly so. You know what they say about men with big
hands and feet? They have big shoes and gloves. My shoes are a size 13
and my gloves an extra large. Overall, I was nothing to write home about -
yet for some reason nearly every one of the girls I worked with that year
was interested in me at one time or another.
This is the story of one of those girls, and though it's not completely
true, it starts with the truth and then builds to the way I prefer to
remember it. It is my memory after all, so why not play editor? Of
course, just in case she - or someone who knows her - happens to see this
story, I've changed enough of the specifics to preserve privacy.
To get through college, I was working in a telephone sales room for a
carpet cleaning company. I know that sounds terrible, and it was, but
everyone has to make a living. For four hours each evening, I'd sit down
at a long row of tables with a cheap telephone, a list of people to call,
and their telephone numbers. The sheets were printed in order of street
address, and the average income of the street was printed at the top of the
group. It wasn't a hard job, but was a frustrating one. In four hours you
would dial hundreds of numbers, make about four sales, and breathe the
cigarette smoke from the other callers in the room. The owner of the place
did a decent job of laying out the incentives so that you were always just
one or two sales away from your next bonus of couple of dollars. We took a
ten-minute break every hour, and got along pretty well.
Typically, break time was your chance to unwind the stress from the past
hour, and the best way to do that was to clown around, tell jokes, or
generally just bullshit with the people. The therapy that we all needed
was to talk to other people who wanted to talk to us - even if just for a
few minutes. Being healthy young adults, the conversation frequently
turned to sex. Sometimes jokes, sometimes stories, but almost never would
a night go by without some heavy innuendo.
In all this talk, Jeanette was usually pretty quite. She seemed to
prefer laughing to telling stories and jokes of her own. I didn't think
much of this until one night just after the last break she passed me a
note. Surprised, I opened it quickly and was flabbergasted when I read it.
The note read simply "Will you teach me about sex?" I wasn't sure what to
say. We'd been talking earlier about secrets, and I'd been pretty adamant
about my belief that you simply didn't spread someone else's secret. Ever.
I guess, looking back, she believed she could ask something like this in
confidence. She knew that even if I was offended (like what 22 year old
male would be?) I would not mention it to anyone else. Of course we got
together after work so that I could make sure I understood what she was
asking, and following that conversation we made plans to get together.
Jeanette lived with her parents in a small town just outside the
Greensville, and was kept under fairly close watch. Though I never met her
parents, I understood them to be very conservative. I doubted they would
understand this at all. In addition to needing to find time to be away
without explanation, Jeanette wanted to time our date with her own
biological needs so that she would be most comfortable. This was a subject
I frankly wanted to know as little about as possible, and simply suggested
that she let me know when she was ready.
About ten days went by, and we didn't really discuss our plans. She was
obviously very embarrassed and nervous, and would blush if I so much as
held a look in her eyes for more then a second or two. I was getting
burned out at work, and probably would have left were it not for the great
people there. Selling on the telephone requires a good attitude. It comes
through on the phone. When you're burnt out, you sell nothing. I was
having a really bad week when Jeanette passed me her next note, "Are you
busy tomorrow night?" -- Of course I was free.
By now, you're probably wondering just what Jeanette looked like. She
was just about my height, but much thinner. Her silky straight hair was
the color of straw, and cut in a short "page boy" cut. Her skin was quite
pale, but not in that sort of milky-white way that redheads tend toward,
there was definitely more color to it, like high quality gold. Clearly she
was one of the prettiest women I have ever known. I say pretty, because
she seemed like a porcelain doll, the way some Asian women do. Her eyes
were huge, and the color of blue made mine look pale gray by comparison.
The color blue you see in a Siamese cat. She was striking.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous the next day. I cleaned the
apartment, taking care with the bedroom and bathroom. I knew Jeanette
would be nervous and wanted to do anything I could to make her comfortable.
By the time she knocked on my door, there really wasn't a thing left to do.
Had she been late, I may have worn a hole in the carpet.
When I answered the door, I was glad of the trouble I'd gone to.
Jeanette was wearing khaki pants and a nice white top that buttoned down
the front and at the sleeves, but had no collar. She was obviously nervous
when she came in. I'm not sure either of us knew just what to do. This
was very different from a date, in that she'd come with a specific purpose,
and we both knew it. I decided that things would go much better if we
could both relax first, so I offered her a wine cooler and we sat down in
the living room.
It took some time to get past the discomfort and actually start to talk,
but after a while we were talking and enjoying each other's company. I was
showing her some pictures of mutual friends when we were finally close
enough to kiss, so we did. If felt natural. Her mouth was soft and her
lips dry. As I put my hand behind her shoulder, her lips parted and we
kissed more deeply. She tasted cool. Things were going well, and I was
already starting to get turned on. We stood up, still kissing, and I
reached up to begin unbuttoning her shirt. She watched me closely; looking
right into my eyes as one by one the buttons opened and her shirt fell away
from her shoulders. I got my first look at what was underneath as I bent
my head to kiss her neck. She was wearing some kind of white silk teddy,
rather then a bra. She blushed and told me that though she wasn't big
enough to need much support, wearing just a shirt revealed more of her
feelings then she liked to show the world. I smiled and kissed her again,
then took her left hand in both of mine. I unhooked the button at the
sleeve, and then when I put her hand down, I placed it on my chest as I
reached for the right. When I finished with that button, I kissed her
fingers then ran my hands along her arm back to her neck. Drawing her to
me, we kissed deeply and I finished peeling back her shirt. She helped by
shaking her hands out of the sleeves, but didn't seem to know what to do
next. I helped by drawing her closer to me until we touched along the
lengths of our bodies. Her hands fell to the small of my back and I
followed suit to show her I approved, and then moved mine lower to cup her
small bottom and pull her even closer to me.
Things were definitely heating up by this point, and even though only a
short time had passed, it could have been hours if you measured by how far
we'd come. I was pretty turned on by then and as I pulled her close I knew
she could feel my erection through my jeans and her pants. I stepped back
just a bit, and while kissing her neck, moved her around so that I was
behind her. She tilted her head back as I kissed, and my hands moved
across her flat stomach and down across the front of her pants. She
pressed her bottom against me, acknowledging my erection for the first time
as she rubbed against it purposefully, feeling the bulge of it as it
pressed between her cheeks. I reached down and unbuttoned her pants,
feeling her stiffen slightly. I knew she was nervous so I didn't rush
things; instead I left that hand at her waistline, with the fingers just
dipping below to the top of her underwear while I brought the other hand
slowly up the inside of the while silk to her breast. She took a deep gasp
of air as my palm brushed over her nipple for the first time. I could feel
it standing straight out and new she was a ready as I, but still scared..
<end of part 1>
Did you like this? It is my first story submission, and will shortly
post the next installment. Any feedback you have is very welcome, as I'd
like to improve my storytelling skills. Feel free to email me., at
WHOGNU@hotmail.com --- I will try to respond.
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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