Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Hello all, my name is Eunju and I recently made a shocking discovery.  My
husband, David, forgot to log out of his email account and I discovered
that he has been posting stories on this web site.  At first I was simply
speechless.  I had no idea what he was doing on the computer so late at
night, but I didn't suspect that he was into Internet porn.  Then I read
what he wrote, and I became infuriated knowing that his filthy mind has
turned so many episodes of our private life into fodder for his sexual
fantasies.

   For example, I remember him going out with my sister in Korea to
photograph the city at night, however, he did not have sex with her on the
lookout, nor did I have sex with her husband while they were gone.  And
yes, I do carpool with a man named Fred, but we do not have sex in parked
cars along interstate highways.  We do not even have sex!  David and I have
not had foursomes with our friends, nor have I been enticed to have sex
with his desperate minister friend.  I have never had sex with my students.
I could go on and on.

   I am also shocked that my husband has such a lust for Korean women, as
they are featured as the sex object in virtually every story on this site.
I asked him before he married me whether he had "yellow fever," as he
pursued me so earnestly, and he assured me that he loved me for my
personality traits and individual beauty.  But now I have seen the story
entitled "yellow fever," detailing a life-long lust for Asian women.  He
writes of betrayal, and now I feel betrayed.  I regret that he didn't log
off his account before I made this discovery.

   But since he did, I have changed his passwords and taken over his
account.  I told him what I have done, and he was shocked, but he can't do
anything about it.  He is spineless, fat, his skin is horrible, and his
personality is undesirable.  I have kept myself trim, and I know that I can
remake life for myself if I leave him.  I am only 32 years old.  He knows
the score, so he cannot object to what I'm about to do.  I'm going to set
the record straight.  I'm also going to detail something about my sexual
history that even he doesn't know about.  I was shocked to see what he
wrote.  Well, he's going to be shocked to see what I write.

   Before I get to my story - a true story, I will add -- I will just say a
couple of things.  Far from how he's portrayed me, I am not a prolific
cheater, but I am not altogether innocent.  I have been faithful during our
marriage, but I cheated on him several times during our engagement.  I felt
that I should experience some other men before I locked in on David for the
rest of my life, and I suppose I got a little carried away.

   One of the characters in David's stories was Greg, a fellow graduate
student.  Greg is a real person, and I did have sex with him, unbeknownst
to David.  When David and I were engaged, we were conducting a
long-distance relationship.  I got to know Greg, enjoyed his company, and
we dated during the weekdays when David was gone, as the story suggested.
David must have suspected it, though he never let on.  Greg and I dated for
about six months, about four of which we were sexually active.  We were
having sex once or twice a week.  David always arrived on Fridays, so Greg
and I usually had dates on Thursdays, and Greg would spend the night in my
apartment.  Sometimes he would come over on Sunday evenings after David had
left.  It was pretty serious.  We had a pregnancy scare once.  He hated to
use condoms, so we rarely did, instead relying recklessly on sheer luck.  I
would have left David for Greg, but Greg had a drinking issue, and I just
don't need that in my life.

   Another character, Chris, also a fellow graduate student, was featured
in the story, "The lady and the champ." Chris does exist, and yes, I did
have sex with him, but only once.  It was sympathy sex.  Chris was rather
thin and unsexy, and rejected by most women he made advances on.  He was
persistent with me, and during a weak moment I gave in.  It was an
afternoon thing, after lunch.  The sex was far from what David described in
his story.  But it was adequate, and his penis was indeed larger than I
expected.  We spent all afternoon in his little single bed.  What a dump
that place was.  But it was a nice time.  I broke it off because I saw the
potential for him to get all crazy possessive.

   I have had sex with three professors.  You could say that I have a thing
for older men, which you'll find ironic given the story that I'm about to
tell.  One partner was my faculty advisor in graduate school.  His name was
Bill.  We only had sex once before he called it off - he was married and
felt guilty about it.  We did it at his house, when his wife was at work.
The poor frustrated man, he wanted so badly to have a relationship with me,
and I would have gone through with it, but he couldn't bear to think of
himself as a dog.

   Another partner was a bisexual professor in my department, named Theo.
Why did I fall for a gay man?  Well, he fell for me, first.  He was
well-built and attractive, black, and just a few years older.  I didn't see
why not.  I was curious about black men.  We arranged a couple meetings in
the hotel in the university union, and had sex on several afternoons before
his long-time boyfriend found out.  That was fine.  I was getting worn out
anyway.

   The third professor, Jack, I met as an undergrad in Korea.  He was an
exchange professor about 30 years older than me.  He's in New York now, and
we've carried on a long relationship.  That's a different story.  Maybe
I'll set the record straight about him sometime, too, but not now.  I have
not had sex with him since we met at a conference in Chicago just as David
and I started dating, but we remain in touch, and still harbor enough
feelings for each other that we may have sex at some point in the future if
we meet at a conference or something.  David, you can do nothing about
that.

   But now for my shocker story, though I know on a web site like this my
"shocker" might be no more surprising than a color TV.  But I know it will
shock David, and that's all I hope for.  Like I said, it's a true story.  I
will be as vivid as I can, which shouldn't be too disappointing.  It is
quite a memory.  Plus, I am an avid journal writer, doing long entries
every night, so I have plenty to draw from to trigger my memories for this
lurid account.  The only thing I will change is alter the names of those
involved.

   It happened soon after David and I became engaged.  I had just started
my graduate studies at a Midwestern university that I will leave unnamed.
Koreans are crazy about learning English, and since I used to tutor English
in Korea, I got a job here tutoring a 13-year-old Korean boy, named
Young-Hun.  He was a shy and awkward little thing, actually not too small -
he was about my height, five-foot-four - but very thin, as all young
teenagers are.  He had glasses and dressed in button-down shirts.  He was a
nerd, but actually pretty cute.  In case you didn't know, Koreans like fair
skin, and he had this beautiful, fair, and creamy complexion - almost
white. And totally unblemished.  I knew right away that someday he'd be a
real girl magnet.

   I'd tutor him for a couple hours every week.  He lived with his parents
in an apartment complex not far from where we lived.  This went on for a
few months.  I was so dumb or innocent that I didn't realize what was going
on below the surface, both in the house where I was tutoring and, upon
reflection, in my own subconscious.

   One day his father called me and asked to meet me for lunch.  Something
was odd about it, and since I was accustomed to being approached by men
(and I still am approached - think about that, David), I assumed he wanted
to somehow arrange an illicit affair.  Still feeling trapped by my
engagement, I was open to the idea, though I would have needed some
convincing before I had sex with him.  I liked the man's wife.

   We met at a diner and chit-chatted until we finished our food.  Over
coffee he finally broached the subject.  He didn't want an affair, but what
wanted surprised me even more.  He had discovered Young-Hun masturbating in
the bedroom while holding a picture of himself and I at the kitchen table.
I swear teenagers in puberty can be turned on by anything.  I remember that
photo.  I was wearing sweat pants, for pete's sake.

   But apparently his Mom and Dad blew up over it, and Young-Hun was
horribly traumatized.  After a few days, however, to their credit, they
decided that they had to face reality and talk with him about the birds and
bees.  They couldn't get him to open up about the topic, however - imagine
that -- so they decided to ask someone else to help.

   I was astounded that they asked me, since I was the object of his
fantasies, and might make the whole situation even more complicated and
confusing for him.  But Young-Hun had grown quite comfortable with me, and
his father seemed to think he would listen to me more than anyone, and
perhaps even make a more lasting impression on him.

   "You don't have to get too specific," his father told me.  "Just tell
him that sometimes men and women lay close when they love each other, and
they make each other feel nice.  Just be sure to say that it is a
respectful act.  That's all we want him to learn from you.  We'll get books
later so he can learn the specifics."

   I was still hesitant, so finally his father offered to pay me extra.  I
knew if he was willing to pay me extra, they really wanted me to do it.  I
said I would, and I refused the extra money.  He was grateful, and he asked
what he could do to help.  I told him it would probably be best if they
were out of the house when we talked.

   The next lesson, David dropped me off and I went in.  Young-Hun's
parents, taking my cue, announced that they were going away for a couple of
hours to do some shopping, and after they left I asked Young-Hun to sit on
the couch with me instead of the kitchen table where we usually sat.  I saw
he was nervous, but I assured him it was okay, and I just had something new
to talk about.  He sat on the edge of the couch and bit his lips.  He could
sense it was going to be a significant talk.

   By the way, just to set the scene a little, I had put on some perfume
and a light blouse that showed my arms and a decent part of my neck and
collar area.  To this day I don't know why, though I suppose it has
something to do with developments in my subconscious that I already
mentioned.  I didn't make a conscious decision to do it.  I just did. 
David joked that I smelled "like a date," and his Mom gave me a skeptical
look when I arrived.  I pretended not to notice either of them.

   Back to the story.  I started by telling Young-Hun that his father told
me that they caught him touching himself.  Young-Hun's face went crimson
red and he got up to leave, but I reached over and held his arm.

   "Wait, don't be shy," I said.  "I'm trying to help you.  Do you want to
understand what sex is?" I pulled his arm gently so he sat back down
slowly. "It's okay," I told him.  "Your parents wanted me to talk to you
about this."

   He clammed up and I didn't know what to say next.  I had never conducted
such a conversation.  He was just sitting there, looking terrified.  "Do
you know how boys and girls are different?" I said.  The way he smirked let
me know that he knew at least that much.  "Good," I told him.  "Now, why
did you touch yourself?"

   He went red again, sinking into the couch.  "It's okay," I told him.  "I
won't tell anyone what we say here." (of course right now I'm violating
that promise, though I feel the statute of limitations has passed).

   "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

   "No?" I told him.  "Let me tell you something.  Girls touch themselves,
too."

   He looked at me with his eyes as wide as dinner plates.  I nodded at
him. "I touch myself sometimes." I wondered if this was going over the
line, but there was actually a reason I was telling him this, and at that
point the reason was still legitimate.  I got up and went to the kitchen,
and jerked a banana off the stem and brought it over.  I handed it to him.

   "Show me how you touched yourself," I said.  He refused to take it at
first.  "Go on," I said.  Reluctantly, he took it.  He looked at me, and I
stared back at him.  He sighed and flicked at it with his index finger.  I
laughed.  "That's all?" I said.

   Young-Hun shrugged and put it down.  "It felt okay," he said,
defensively.

   "It's supposed to feel better than just okay," I said.  "Does it make
your penis stiff?"

   He looked away, trying to hide his smirk.  "You mean a boner?" he said.

   I smiled.  "That's a crude way to put it.  But yes, I mean a boner."

   "Yeah, a little," he mumbled.

   "Have you ever made yourself orgasm?"

   He looked up, curious.  "Organism?" Young-Hun said.  His eyes were
puzzled, like he had just seen his dog fly past the window.

   I laughed.  "No, I said, orgasm," I said.

   "What's that?"

   At a loss, I told him that it was when white liquid came out of his
penis.  "You feel really good, and then you make a mess," I said.  "Have
you ever done that?"

   "Gosh, no!" he told me.  "Does that really happen?"

   "If you do it right," I told him.  "People - adults -- will try to make
you ashamed of it, but it's perfectly natural.  You should try it."

   His face was red, but I saw a hint of intrigue.  "How do I do it?" He
said.

   "Like this," I told him.  I began to stroke the banana in my hand.  "I'm
not a man, but I think if you put some Vaseline on your hands it makes it
slide easier.  Here.  Try it." Young-Hun took the banana and stroked it in
his hands.  I could see that he was mulling it over.

   "But why do you want to do that?" He asked me.  "I mean, touch it that
way?  Why not...  my way?"

   "Well, my way is about the closest feeling to the real thing that you're
going to get, at least for now," I said.

   "The real thing?" He said.

   "Yes," I said.  "Sex." He bit his lip and looked away.  I continued
carefully.  "Your father asked me not to be too specific, but I can see
that you're way beyond what he thinks you are.  Sex is when you put your
penis in a girl's vagina."

   He looked at me with those puppy dog eyes again.  "How does that
happen?"

   "Well," I said, "you know how your penis gets hard?  At the same time,
if the girl is willing, her female part gets wet.  So then your penis can
slide right into her female part."

   "Like Vaseline lets it slide?"

   "Yes," I said, with a laugh, "like Vaseline." I looked at him.  "Do you
know what I mean?" He shrugged.  "Wait here a minute," I said.  I went to
the kitchen and looked around.  Finally my eyes settled on a loaf of bread.
That would do.  I pulled a stack of slices from the bag and brought it to
the couch.

   "A vagina is not like a belly button, or a hole," I told him.  "It's
like a slit." I motioned at the slices of bread.  "And the penis goes in it
like this," I said.  I poked the banana gently against the stack of bread,
and eased it between the slices.  I looked at Young-Hun and he was trying
not to laugh.

   "You laugh," I told him, "but you'll appreciate that demonstration
during your first time!"

   "My first time?"

   "The first time you do this with your penis to a girl, silly," I told
him.  He went sober at the thought.  I could see his imagination at work.
Lord only knew what he was thinking about.  I went to the kitchen, put the
bread and banana back, and sat back down.

   "You're having some strange feelings about girls now, aren't you?" I
said.  He shrugged.  I put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. 
"You can tell me," I said.  "I won't tell anybody.  Don't you trust me?"

   Young-Hun nodded, at last.  "All the girls smell so good.  And I spend
so much time thinking about them."

   I smiled and patted his leg.  "It's perfectly natural.  Believe me,
they're thinking all the time about boys, and eventually you're going to
connect with one of them, and bingo, it'll be the banana and bread thing
all night.  But you should be sure to respect and care for each other.  Sex
has a way of messing with your mind.  Your father didn't want me to get
into specifics, so you shouldn't tell him about my banana demonstration,
but I think it's good you know a few so you don't embarrass yourself, and
ruin that first time.  Because it sure seems like your parents aren't going
to get into that subject beforehand, if I may say so."

   He was intrigued.  "How do I practice?" He asked me.

   I laughed.  "Use your hand, like I showed you," I said.  "You might want
to try to orgasm sometime, just so it doesn't overwhelm you."

   "It's scary?"

   "Well, no, but if you don't know what's happening, it might be a little
intimidating," I said.

   He got that puppy dog look again.  "I don't like being scared," he said.
"I don't even watch scary movies."

   "Well, that's why you practice," I said.  But I was surprised to see him
shake his head, and then a little tear formed.

   "I don't think I will," he said.  "I don't like being scared."

   I don't know exactly the reason behind what happened next.  All I know
is that I'm a sucker for men - and boys, I guess - who cry.  I want to
comfort them.  I don't know how sexual notions get involved in that
equation - maybe some deep psychological flaw - but deep down, they do. 
Probably it's true for all women.  I have to say that I never set out to
start anything with a young teenage boy, but strange things happen when you
live life like I do, by just riding the wave.  So I scooted across the
couch cushion and put my hand on his shoulder.

   "Hey, it's okay," I said.  "It's really nothing to be frightened of."

   He looked at me with his red eyes, from behind his big glasses.  "I
believe you.  It's just that my parents don't want to talk about anything I
care about.  I have to learn about these things all alone, and it's so
confusing."

   A pickup artist couldn't have done a better job on me, I have to admit.
Then again, I don't find myself talking sex with 13-year-olds much.  They
are very sensual and honest creatures.  I knew he was being innocent, so my
heart melted with sympathy.  I looked at my watch.  It had been only 15
minutes since his parents left.  I heard myself say, "Do you want me to
help you?"

   "Huh?"

   "Listen, you can't tell your parents, or I'll get in big trouble.  But
if you want me to help you, I will."

   He wiped his eyes.  "How?"

   "We have to go somewhere else," I said.  "There's a big window here. 
Let's go to your room."

   Young-Hun stiffened.  "Mom says no girls in my room.  Never."

   "Relax," I said.  "I'm not a girl.  Besides, I'm only helping you.  And
I won't tell your mother if you don't."

   He hesitated, so I stood up.  Obligingly, he got up and led the way to
his room.  I followed, wondering what the hell I was doing, and how exactly
I was going to help educate him on the ways of the body.  One thing I knew
was that whatever help I offered shouldn't take place in the living room in
front of the window.

   His was the typical boy's room, with basketball posters on the wall, a
Nerf hoop over the door, clothes strewn on the floor, a school desk in the
corner, piled with school books and papers.  A toy box along the wall was
filled with child's toys that were discarded not too long ago, and, atop
his single bed, there lay Star Wars covers.  The portion of blanket with
Princess Leah had a worn look.  I grinned.  He was definitely well into
puberty.  The blinds were drawn.

   "Nice room!" I said, enthusiastically.  "You must love living here."

   "It's alright," he said, shrugging.  He sat down on his desk chair and
looked at me inquiringly.

   "Okay," I said.  "Time to start.  Now, is this where you were when your
Dad caught you?"

   Young-Hun nodded.  He went to the bed, lifted the mattress, pulled out a
photograph.  It was the photo of myself with him, smiling at the table. 
"This was the photo I had," he said.  "It was making me feel funny.  My
parents threw it away but I dug it out of the trash."

   I looked at it.  There was a stain on the edge.  I smiled at him.  "Why
did it make you feel funny?"

   He blushed.  "Nothing."

   "Don't give me that," I said.  "Tell me why.  I need to know so I can
help you." He mumbled something.  "What?" I said.

   "I think you're pretty," he said.  "You smell good."

   "Awww," I said, flattered despite myself.  "That's sweet.  I think
you're awfully cute, too.  I'm sure the girls love you and just don't say
it yet."

   He shrugged and put the photo back into its hiding place.  "I dunno," he
said.

   "Oh they do," I said.  "I used to be a 13-year-old, too." He smiled at
the thought.

   "Do you have any questions about what we've talked about so far?" I
asked him.

   He looked around.  "You said girls touch themselves too," he said.  "Do
they touch themselves here?" He touched his belly button.

   I laughed out loud.  "No, silly," I said.  "They touch themselves the
same place you do!"

   "The same place?" He said, puzzled.

   "Not exactly," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, for there was no
other place to sit.  "We're built a little differently."

   "Oh," he said.  He looked at his desk and picked at something.

   "You want to see where?" I said.  He swiveled his head toward me
abruptly, his eyes big again.  I smiled and put my right hand between my
legs.  "There." Young-Hun stared at my hand, resting against my crotch.  I
kept it there for a moment and pulled it away.

   "I just remembered that I mentioned a vagina without even asking.  Have
you ever heard of a vagina?" I said.

   He looked down.  "No," he mumbled.

   Good grief, I thought, your parents really have kept you bottled up. 
"Don't be ashamed," I said.  "Here's a quick lesson.  Boys have penises,
girls have vaginas.  That's the female part.  That's what's right here."

   He stared at my crotch.  "So that's where my penis goes?"

   I laughed.  "Yes, that's where your penis goes.  Well, not this in this
one, exactly, but in general!"

   "That sounds kinda cool," he said.

   "Does it?" I said.  "Why?"

   Young-Hun shrugged.  "I dunno," he said.  "It just does."

   "Well, I'll tell you, the feeling doesn't go away," I said.  "It'll
sound cool for a long time.  The world revolves around it.  Anyone who
denies it is going to live a life of frustration."

   "What?"

   "Some say that everything is based on sex," I told him.  "Everything."

   "Why?"

   "To have babies," I told him.  "And for a fun time."

   Young-Hun sat back down.  "Can I try the banana thing?"

   "Sure," I said.  "I can go get the banana." But he gave me a look. 
"Oh!" I said.  "You mean do it to yourself?" He nodded sheepishly.

   "Oh, sure," I said, surprised.  "I'll just step outside."

   I got up and left the room.  I stood just outside the door, feeling
amused.  For a moment I heard nothing.  Then I heard clothes rustling in
the room.  There was no sound for a few moments, and then he opened the
door and inch and poked an eye out.  Between the crack in the door I saw a
line of bare skin from his feet up to his hip bone, up to his shoulder, and
I realized he was naked.  From my viewpoint I saw that his skin had that
same, creamy, unblemished look across his whole body.

   I have to admit I felt a little bit excited at that moment, but it
wasn't for him, particularly.  His skin was just so smooth and healthy
looking, and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with a
man whose skin was like that.  I love skin.  I take care of mine
fastidiously and appreciate when others do, too.  I envy youth because they
can't help but have beautiful skin.

   "Can you get me some Vaseline?" Young-Hun asked me, and I drew my eyes
back up to his.  As I went down the hall to the bathroom, I wondered what
he thought of my wandering gaze.  I opened the medicine cabinet, found a
bottle of Vaseline, and brought it back to him.  I purposely kept my eyes
locked efficiently on his.

   "Just a little bit," I told him, handing it to him.  "It doesn't take
much."

   "How do you know?"

   "I've done it to men before," I said.  His eyes went wide and he closed
the door.  For a few more moments I didn't hear anything.  I glanced at my
watch.  A half hour had passed since his parents left.  There was still
plenty of time to teach him his lesson, though I was still unsure exactly
what the lesson would be.

   I cocked my head against his door, listening through the wood and
Chicago Bulls poster.  Finally I heard a slapping sound, accompanied by a
light moaning that I guessed was him, making sounds in his throat as he
masturbated using the banana method.  I waited for the sound of him
finishing, grinning as I imagined what sound he would make.  Instead, the
slapping simply stopped.  There was no sound for a few seconds, and then I
heard him sob.

   "Young-Hun?" I called out.  "Is everything okay?"

   "Yes," he said, but I could tell it wasn't.

   "Did you do it, honey?" I said.  "What are you feeling right now?" He
mumbled something.  I asked him again, but he was mumbling his responses.
"Can I come in?" I asked.  A moment of silence passed.  I heard some
rustling.  Then the lock on the door handle was undone, his way of giving
assent.  I had another one of those moments where I knew I shouldn't be
doing what I was doing, but I opened the door and went in.

   Young-Hun was sitting on his bed.  He had put on a blue bathrobe that
was too small.  It didn't even reach below his knees, and his forearms
poked out.  His eyes were puffy, and he held his arms protectively over his
mid-section.  I grabbed the box of tissue and brought it over to him.  He
took one and dabbed his eyes.

   "Well," I said, "how was it?"

   "It felt good for a minute," he whispered.  "But I had to stop."

   "Why?"

   "I felt bad."

   "What in the world for?"

   "My parents say it's bad," he said.  "And I don't want to make a mess.
If they ever find out they'll kill me.  Just like the other day."

   "Oh honey," I said, rubbing his hair.  "They don't have to find out. 
You do these things so you don't get caught."

   "Huh?"

   "Use tissue," I told him.  "Hold it to your penis so you don't get the
mess all over."

   "It gets all over?"

   I laughed.  "Well, when boys come - orgasm - their mess kind of comes
flying out." His eyes went wide in that cute innocent way again.  I had no
idea what he was imagining, but he looked worried.

   "Don't worry," I said.  "It's actually very nice.  You'll like the
feeling.  Girls like to see it.  That may be hard to understand right now."


   "How long does it take before it happens?" He said.

   "Well, that depends," I said.  "Sometimes just 20, 30 seconds after you
start sex.  Sometimes a minute.  Sometimes 10 minutes, even longer.  Here's
a secret: Girls like it when it goes long."

   "Why?"

   I laughed, and blushed.  I couldn't help myself.  He was listening so
intently, watching my face, so cute, so eager to learn more.  "Well, boys
can only have one orgasm at a time.  Girls can have many.  The more, the
merrier."

   "So I guess boys just have to keep themselves from having an orgasm for
a few minutes," he said.

   "That's easier said than done," I said.

   "Why?" He said, in that same, open-faced wonder.

   "Oh, goodness," I said, blushing again.  "So many questions!  Well, sex
feels so good that it's hard for boys to stop.  The orgasm is like nature's
finish line.  It's just kind of instinctive to go for it."

   He looked perplexed.  "Well, I'll never get to the finish line," he
said. "I'll never make a mess.  I'd get too scared."

   "Don't be silly," I said.  "You know what someone told me once?  He said
when you have an orgasm it's the closest you'll ever come to God before
dying.  It's the best feeling a person can have."

   He looked at me.  I'll never forget those puppy dog eyes when he said,
"Then can you keep me company?"

   At the time I must have looked shocked, because he turned red.  "What?"
I said.  At the moment it was the only thing I could say.

   "Nothing," he said.  "Forget it."

   "You want me to stay here when you do it?"

   He said nothing and looked away.  I glanced at my watch.  Forty minutes
had passed.  I'm ashamed to say I had the wonderful thrill of being on the
verge of doing something really bad and being certain you'll get away with
it.  "Okay," I said.  He looked back at me, surprised.

   "Okay?" He said.  "You will?"

   "Okay," I repeated.  "I'll do it.  I'll stand right here and explain
things to you.  But you can never, EVER, tell anyone, do you hear me?  If
you do, I'll tell them that you had another girl over, and it wasn't me. 
Do you understand?  We aren't doing anything wrong, but it sure looks like
it, and I could go to jail.  Do you want me to go to jail?"

   He shook his head vigorously.  "Good," I said.  "I trust you.  When
you're done you won't feel like reporting me anyway.  You'll feel grateful.
So let's get started, shall we?"

   Young-Hun looked at me and shrugged.  "What should I do?"

   I leaned against his desk.  "Well, stand up," I said.  He did.  My
stomach jumped a little bit.  "Are you comfortable with me watching you?"
He bit his lip.  "I guess so," he said.  "Yeah."

   There was a moment of awkward silence.  I laughed, and he laughed. 
"Well," I said, "undo your robe.  You want to take it off?" He shook his
head.  "Fine," I said.  "But you do need to untie it to get at yourself."

   He shifted on his bare feet.  He smiled nervously and finally undid his
robe with fumbling fingers.  It fell open but I still couldn't see inside
through the shadow and draped cloth.  Young-Hun stood there looking at me.
"What?" he said.

   "What do you mean, what?" I said.  "We don't have all night.  Do what
you were doing before.  If you hear me scream, then you know that something
is terribly wrong.  Otherwise, keep going, and let your imagination go."

   "What could go terribly wrong?"

   "Nothing," I said.  "I'm joking."

   "When do I stop?"

   "When I tell you."

   Young-Hun looked down at himself.  He looked like he was about to reach
for his penis, but then he walked to the dresser, got a bit of Vaseline,
and smeared it on his hand.  He reached down.

   "Face me," I said.  He looked over his shoulder sheepishly.  "I can't
help you if I don't see what you're doing," I said.  "It's okay.  Nobody is
taking pictures."

   Young-Hun bit his lip and turned around.  I nodded, and he reached down.
His robe parted some more and I saw more of his beautiful skin, and then I
saw him grab his penis.  It was a little cute pink thing, totally limp at
the moment, and bereft of pubic hair except for a little patch right above
his penis.  He began to jerk at his penis furiously, nervously, with
abandon.

   "Calm down," I said, laughing.  "No wonder you were crying!  Go gentle
on it.  You'll hurt it.  Be careful!  That's the only one you've got!"

   "Sorry," Young-Hun said, blushing again.  He started going slower, so
slow that his hand just crept up along his penis.

   "You know what?" I said.  "Just do what you were doing before I told you
about the banana method.  Let's see what happens."

   Young-Hun nodded.  Just then the phone rang.  We both jumped.  There was
a phone line in his room, so I put a finger to my lips and went over to it.
I picked it up and it was his father.

   "How are things going?" he asked me.

   "Just fine," I said.  "We're making progress."

   "Is he talking?" He said.

   "Some," I said.

   "Oh, thank you," he said.  "Please remember what I told you.  And look,
we're running a little behind.  Can you stay another hour tonight?  We'll
pay you double for the hour."

   "Of course," I said.  "That may be good, anyway.  I think a little more
time would be good for the discussion."

   "Great!" He said.  "See you at 11."

   We hung up.  I turned and saw Young-Hun engrossed with himself, flicking
his penis with his finger.  "Goodness," I said.  His penis had gotten
larger.  Instead of a little limp thing it was now kind of chubby, and
swaying there.  He let loose little grunts from the back of his throat with
every flick.

   I leaned against the dresser and he looked up.  I smiled at him.  "Don't
pay any attention to me," I said.  "You're doing fine."

   He looked back down, continuing his flicking.  His penis thickened, then
stood out straight from his body, poking out from behind his robes, then
the head of it rose into the air.  Young-Hun kept grunting in cute little
squeaks.  He kept flicking it.

   "Now," I said.  "Now is when you start the banana thing.  The flicking
just gets it ready."

   He nodded, and I saw that his cheeks were flushed.  He got some
Vaseline, grabbed his penis, and began stroking it madly.  "Slower," I
said. He slowed down until he just about stopped.  "A little faster than
that," I said.

   "How fast?" He said.

   "This fast," I said, grabbing the banana.  I stroked it up and down. 
Young-Hun watched me and timed his strokes with mine.  Gradually his penis
swelled even bigger and his eyes went wide.  His cheeks went red.  I
stroked the banana a little faster, and he followed suit.

   "What are you thinking about, Young-Hun?" I asked him.

   "What...  should I think?" He asked.

   I smiled.  "Think about your favorite girl," I said.  "Imagine that your
penis is inside her vagina right now.  It's warm in there, and wet.  It
feels even better than your hand.  She's holding you close.  She's saying,
`Oh Young-Hun.  Oh, baby, rub it inside me.'"

   Young-Hun's hand slid up and down his penis quickly.  I saw sweat
forming.  I kept pulling at the banana, but he was looking at me now.  I
saw sweat on his thin little chest.

   "Take off your robe," I said.  "You're getting warm." He took his hand
off his penis long enough to shed his robe.  It fell to his feet in a pile,
and I saw his young, thin body, finally exposed.  Again I felt that twinge
of excitement as I looked at his skin.  You might say I have a fetish about
skin.  As he stood there pulling his penis, grunting those cute little
grunts, I have to admit I had to fan myself a little bit.  Things were
getting heated up, so it surprised me when he stopped.  He pulled his hand
away, leaving his penis to bob there in the air.  He looked at me.  "I
can't," he said.  "I can't do it!"

   "Why in the world not?" I said.  "You were right on the verge of it!"

   "I just can't," he said.  A little tear of disappointment formed in his
eyes.

   "Do you want me to talk more while you do it?" I said, my weak heart
melting.

   "I just won't do it," he said.  "I know I won't."

   "Okay," I said.  "Okay, okay, okay." I gathered myself.  I didn't want
it to end, to tell you the truth.  Don't think I'm a pervert, please, but I
was physically excited.  And when I get excited I find a way to finish what
has started.  In my mind, Young-Hun stopped being a 13-year-old and was
instead a beautifully skinned male, the same size as me.  That's all that
mattered.  That's why I said, "Do you want me to help?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well," I said, "I could guide you with my hand."

   His jaw went slack.  "You mean touch me?  There?"

   I arched my eyebrows.  "Well?"

   "We could get in big trouble," he whispered.  "Big trouble."

   "But we can keep secrets, right?" I said.  "Because something like this,
you could get in trouble with the police, too.  But it would be worth the
risk.  I know what I'm doing."

   "Will anyone know?"

   "Of course not.  The blinds are shut.  The neighbors are out.  It'll
just take a few minutes, and once I get you finished, you'll know what it's
like, and you won't need me anymore.  Class dismissed."

   He snorted and then stood there a moment, thinking it over.  He was
always pausing before he answered.  "Okay," he said.  "You can if you
want."

   I walked over to him.  I glanced at the clock.  An hour and 10 minutes
had passed.  Still enough time.

   "There," I said, speaking gently to him.  I put one hand on his
shoulder. "Relax." I ran my free hand along his chest, then belly, reveling
in the softness of his skin, and finally let my hand drop down, my
fingertips tracing their way to his penis.  When I grabbed it he let out a
little moan.

   "Are you okay?" I said.  He nodded and blinked.  "Good.  Just relax," I
said.  He had gotten a little limp, but as I stroked his penis it got stiff
quickly.  It was hard as a rock, and he wasn't that small, actually.  He
began to grunt.  "Miss Kim," he moaned.  I pulled his penis with gentle
force.  "Oh Young-Hun," I told him.  "It's a nice size.  You've got good
genes that way.  You'll make some girl very happy with this penis."

   He was grunting those cute squeaks again.  I whispered in his ear. 
"This is what a girl's vagina feels like, honey," I said.  "Enjoy it. 
Enjoy." By now his penis was swelling even larger and filling my hand very
nicely.  He was really pretty mature for a 13-year-old.  I'd say he was as
big as David.  About then I first noticed that my panties were a little
moist in the crotch.  Trouble.  I pulled my hand away.

   "Miss Kim?" He protested.  "Sorry," I said, fanning myself with my hand.
"I just need to cool down.  Whew!  This isn't a one-way street you know."

   "What do you mean?" He said, breathing hard.

   "I'm only 25," I told him.  "My hormones haven't gone away yet."

   "What?"

   "I mean that I like it too," I said.  "I have to be careful."

   "Careful of what?"

   "You ask too many questions," I said.  "Can I unbutton my shirt?  It's
hot in here."

   He shrugged.  But when I unbuttoned my blouse, revealing my bra, he
realized the implications, and his eyes went wide, glued to my chest. 
"What?" I said.  "Don't tell me you haven't seen a woman before.  Don't you
have a Playboy stashed away somewhere?" He shook his head.  "Mom and Dad
would kill me," he said.

   "Oh, Mom and Dad, Mom and Dad," I said.  "Here.  Take a look." I removed
my blouse entirely, revealing my bra.  "What do you think?" I said, arching
my back a little so they stuck out a little more.

   "They're big and round," he said, with wonder.

   "Of course," I said.  "Now where were we?" I reached down and touched
his penis, and it came to life again.  I stroked with purpose, feeling
excited, but also nervous.  If his parents came home early we were in deep
water.  He started grunting again, and this time he put his hand on my
shoulder.  Before I knew it, he leaned into me and kissed he awkwardly on
the lips.

   "Young-Hun!" I said, pausing.  "What was that?"

   He was a deep crimson now.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I just did it. 
While you do this I've been thinking about you!"

   "Me?  Why me?  When you're surrounded by all those girls at school?"

   "I like you the most," he said.

   "Why, you little charmer," I said, resuming my stroking.  "What are you
thinking about?"

   "I--I'm thinking," he stammered, watching my hand stroke his penis, "I'm
thinking about ...  hugging you, I guess..."

   "Hugging?" I said, into his ear.  "Is that all?"

   "Do you have a vagina?" He said.

   I laughed.  "Of course I do," I said.  "But that's not the kind of
question you ask a lady." "Sorry," he said.

   "That's okay," I said.  "Do you want me to finish this?"

   "Can I see you?" He said, suddenly.

   Now I was confused.  "What do you mean?"

   "Can you take this off?" He said, reaching out and touching my bra
strap. I chuckled.  "Would you like that?" I said.  He nodded.  I smiled,
released his penis, and reached behind my back.  At this point I knew
things had gone beyond the innocent stage.  I was starting to enjoy it, and
not even a good defense attorney would keep me out of prison if I were
caught.  Still, I was riding the wave, and I unlatched my bra and let it
fall away.  The look in his eyes made it all worth it.  His puppy dog eyes
went wide and his jaw fell open.

   "What do you think?" I said.

   He couldn't take his eyes away.  "Can I..."

   "Touch?" I said, feeling a surge of electricity in my gut.  "Yes."

   He reached his hand out slowly, so slowly that I took it and pulled it
to my left breast.  My nipples were hard and I felt his hand go over it. 
His hands were red hot.  "Rub it," I said.  He started rubbing it.  Then he
flicked my nipple.  I gasped.  "Sorry!" He said.  "No," I said.  "That was
a good gasp.  Women do those.  What made you do that?"

   "I just...  did," he said.

   "Well, you have good instincts," I said.

   He smiled nervously and did it again.  It did feel nice.  As he did it
again, I reached down and grabbed his penis.  I stroked it slowly.  His
hand rubbed my breast more firmly, and I felt his penis stiffening, but
after a moment I pulled my hand away.

   "What?" Young-Hun asked, his eyes pleading with me to keep going.

   "I feel like we've gone so far," I said.  "Maybe I should let you look
at me.  I've seen you, after all.  Without your clothes, I mean."

   "You'd do that?" He said.

   "Sure," I said.

   "All--all of them?" He said.  "You'll take all your clothes off?"

   I nodded, and undid my belt.  "You have to see a woman sometime.  I'd
rather it be now than when some girl wants you to perform," I said.

   "Perform?" He said.

   "Don't worry," I told him.  "You're doing fine."

   The belt loosened and my slacks fell to the floor.  I stood there in my
panties for Young-Hun to look at, and when it seemed he couldn't smile any
wider, I removed my panties and socks.  His eyes went to my crotch.

   "That's where my vagina is," I told him.  "That's where every girl's
vagina is."

   "How does my penis go in there?" He said.  "I mean, not that one, but
someone else's--"

   "You can't see the part where it goes in, from the front," I told him. I
weighed my next words.  "Do you want to feel it?" He pursed his lips.  I
could see his penis was straight as an arrow, and I hadn't even touched it.
"Go on," I said.  "I can see that you want to.  Go ahead." His hands
twitched.

   "Do you want me to guide your hand?" I said.

   He held out his hand, and I took it.  My heart beating a little faster,
I pulled it toward me.  I let him rest his fingers on my mound for a
moment, and then I pulled it down, around the pubic bone, and pressed his
fingertips against myself.  I swear his eyes almost fell out of his head.

   "Feel it?" I said, my voice fluttering a bit.

   "It's all wet and warm," he said.

   "Told you," I said.

   I rubbed his fingertips against me.  "That's the clitoris," I said, when
he reached the little bump.  "Women like when you touch that." I moved his
hand a little bit.  "And those are kind of like the lips of the vagina. 
The part you're interested in is in between those lips.  That's the
opening." He closed his eyes as I guided his fingers around.  His penis was
so taut that it was pulsing with his heartbeat.

   "Miss Kim?" He said.

   "Hmm?"

   "I still don't understand how my penis gets in there.  I mean, not in
THERE, but in another one--"

   I guided his hand around for another moment, building up the courage to
do what my hormones were telling me.  "Well, let's get in your bed."

   "Huh?" He said, startled.

   "Let's get in bed and I'll show you."

   "You mean--you--you mean--"

   "No, silly," I said.  "I'm not crazy enough to have sex with you.  But I
need to show you how, and I can't demonstrate standing here."

   I took his hand and walked him over to the bed.  He strutted along in
his 13-year-old obedient way.  I pulled back the Star Wars bedspread, got
on the mattress, and patted the space next to me.  Obligingly he climbed
onto the spread next to me.  Our skin touched.  His was so smooth.  I ran
my hand across it admiringly before taking his hand again.

   "Ready?" I said.  He nodded.  I took his hand and guided it to my
vagina. I stuck one knee up in the air.  I put his hands on the folds of my
vagina and then gently pushed his fingers inside.

   "Miss Kim," he said, full of awe.  "They went inside you!"

   "Gentle.  Rub the clitoris," I said, barely able to speak clearly. 
"Remember where the clitoris is?" The little scoundrel did, of course, and
damned if he didn't flick it with his free hand.  I cried out.  "Sorry!" He
said.  I grabbed his hands before he pulled them away.

   "No, that was a good shout," I said.  "That was a good shout, honey."

   He flicked it again, and again.  That did it, I suppose.  The final
hurdle.  It really set me on fire.  I reached down and took his penis in my
hand.  He did the cute grunt again and I pulled it gently.

   "Young-Hun," I said.  "Do you know how your penis would fit inside?"

   "I guess I'd just stick it in," he said.

   "But do you know how a woman would allow access?  What position you
would have to take with her?" He just stared at me.  "Of course you don't.
Do you want to know?" He looked at me.  "Of course you do," I said.

   I lay on my back and propped my left knee against the wall.  I kept the
right one down.  "Crawl over my right leg," I told him.  Young-Hun crawled
over it.  I grabbed his penis to guide him.  Once he was between my knees I
rose my right leg, trapping him between my knees.  His side was planted on
my crotch.  "Turn toward me," I said.  "Turn your penis toward my vagina."
He did.  I held his penis.

   "This is the position you'd take," I told him, breathlessly.  "It's
called missionary.  You'd just thrust your penis forward until you found my
vagina, and between the two of you, you could get it in."

   "And then what?" He said.

   I smiled.  "You want to know?"

   "I thought you said you wouldn't," he said, watching my face closely.

   "I think I changed my mind, honey," I said.

   As a lady I don't feel at liberty to discuss the details of what
happened next, but since this is a life-changing moment, I feel I must.  As
we started, I mistakenly figured that the awkward part about having sex
with a 13-year-old virgin would be the penetration, but actually he did
well with that because he was so cooperative.  I guided it right in.  His
eyes bugged out and he said, "Miss Kim!  My boner is inside you!"

   "Don't call it a boner, honey," I said.  "Sorry," he said.

   So that went smoothly.  But then he just kind of laid there on top of me
with his eyes wide as pop cans, and I was afraid it was over before it
started.

   "Did you come?  Have an orgasm?" I said.

   "I don't know!" He said.

   "If you don't know, you didn't," I said.  "How does it feel inside my
vagina, cutie?"

   He nodded and smiled wide.  "I like it," he said.  "Is this sex?"

   "Kind of," I said.  "But there's a lot more to it.  Move."

   "Huh?"

   "Move your penis around inside me," I said.  "Remember the banana
method? Your penis is the banana, and my vagina is the hand.  Now it's time
to stroke it."

   He laid there with a concentrated look on his face.  I ran my hands up
and down his back and I could feel his penis kind of twitching.  "Use your
hips to move it," I told him, laughing despite myself.  "It can't move
around in there all by itself!" Young-Hun nodded, and then kind of lolled
slowly from side to side like a beached whale.  "Not like that," I said. 
"Pump your hips." He did, but it was awkward, so I pumped my hips back at
him, just once.  His jaw flew open and he cried out.

   "You like that?" I said with a laugh.  He nodded enthusiastically. 
"Good!  Good!" I said.  "Now do that to me!" He thrust his hips nicely into
mine - it was a soft and gentle gesture -- and his penis went a little
further into my vagina.  "Good!  Again!" I said.  "Again!  Not so soft! 
Sex is work!  Again!  Again!"

   I'll say this about sex with a 13-year-old boy.  As I said before, the
problem isn't getting it hard enough to penetrate, but once it's in there,
he has a hard time keeping it in there.  His scrawny little body had a lot
of energy, and he thrashed around on top of me in all directions as he
clung to me with his skinny arms.  Over and over his penis kept popping
out, and I kept guiding it back in.

   I have to say, though, that though this problem would have been a real
turnoff had Young-Hun been a full-grown man, it was kind of exciting with
him as a teenager.  It's hard to say why.  It was all part of the
experience, if you have any idea what I mean.  Mechanically speaking, I've
had better sex, but emotionally, this was fantastic because it was his
first time, and I was essentially defining the act for him.  And it was
kind of a thrill to have him flopping around on top of me like he was
having a seizure.  His deflowering really turned me on.

   "Young-Hun!" I said, overcome with sensation despite myself, and at that
moment I did feel some real guilt.  Screaming his name out loud during sex
kind of drove home what I was doing.  I imagine you'd have the same sort of
effect if you screamed your brother's name or something.  The line that
separates family, friends, students and acquaintances from sexual partners
is actually a very thin one, and your brain doesn't catch up to the shift
until some key moment during the sex act, such as calling out your
partner's name.  So when I heard myself call out my young student's name, I
felt such shame that I wanted to push him off me.  And I would have, but he
suddenly lowered down and kissed me full on the lips, and his clumsy little
tongue forced its way into my mouth.  I tasted the peppermint gum he had
been chewing earlier.  I love peppermint.  And I loved the feeling of his
bare, smooth chest pressing into my breast.  I kissed him right back. 
Hormones got the best of me.  Instead of pushing him off, I put my hands on
his soft little butt to steady his earnest thrusts.

   "Steady, steady," I told him.  "Just move up and down against me.  Up
and down, up and down, think about the banana, up and down, up and down,
steady and easy, that's right, honey, that's right, you're the banana, I'm
the hand, stroking, stroking, that's right, Young-Hun, honey..."

   He got into the groove, and together we finally managed to keep his
penis firmly inside me.  Once that happened, he started doing those cute
little grunts and I knew he was feeling it pretty good.  I could see him
looking down along my breasts, belly and hips as our bare bodies slapped
against each other.  I looked down too, and I have to admit feeling quite a
thrill at seeing his tight little hips moving into mine.  Thinking back,
that is one of my most vivid memories of that night.  I kept running my
hands up and down his sides and all over his body, his arms, hamstrings,
neck.  He was so smooth!  I couldn't get enough of it.  I hadn't ever felt
skin like that on a man.

   And I should add that the feel of his penis inside and against my vagina
was quite unique.  I had never made love to a male without any pubic hair.
It was wonderful.  Instead of the scratching of pubic hair, I felt the warm
smoothness of his skin all around my crotch.  His skin, his wonderful skin.
His skin is was what made me sin.

   In a moment he started making a sound I hadn't heard, kind of like a
sobbing sound, though I knew he wasn't crying.  "Young-Hun," I said,
breathlessly, "are you going to orgasm?"

   In a rush he pulled his penis out of me.  It made a popping sound as it
came out, and I saw that it was much bigger than it was when it went in. 
It was beet red, and quivering.  "What's wrong?" I said.

   "I don't want to make a mess!" He said, his voice cracking in
frustration.  "I don't want to get caught!"

   "Oh, honey," I said, running my hands up and down his chest and belly.
"This is your lucky day.  You don't have to worry about making a mess."

   "What do you mean?" He said.

   He was small and light enough so that I could put my hand under his
armpit and flip him down onto the mattress.  I pushed him onto his back and
climbed on him, straddling him.  His eyes went wide in surprise.

   "Relax," I said, adjusting my hips on top of his.  "This is going to be
fun."

   I grabbed his penis and guided it inside me.  I settled down on him,
letting gravity drive his penis as deep as possible.  Then began to rock my
hips back and forth, grinding his penis against the inside of my vagina.  I
could feel his bare little balls pressed against my behind.  He lay there
helplessly, staring at my body as I swayed around on top of him.

   "Miss Kim!" He said, alarmed.  "How will you know when to stop?"

   "I won't stop," I said, leaning down and kissing him.  "I won't stop
until you make a mess."

   "I don't wanna--"

   "Don't worry," I said, thrusting my hips a little faster.  "You can make
a mess inside me.  Your mommy will never know.  It'll all stay inside me
and no one will ever know."

   Even at this young age he could sense heavy implications of this.  He
looked up at me all confused.  "It's how babies are made," I told him, "but
there's only certain times a woman can get a baby inside her, and it's not
that time.  No one will ever know about your little mess inside me.  Trust
me."

   That seemed to calm him.  He let his head rest back on the pillow, and
he raised his hands to touch me.  "That's good," I said, grinding my hips
into his.  "Guide me with your hands." He rested his smooth palms on my
hips, and his caress intensified into a clutch as I rocked faster and
faster.  I massaged my breasts and he watched me closely.  His bedsprings
squeaked, and he began the cute grunts.  I arched my back for some more
thrust and his eyes rolled back.  He let out that sobbing sound again.

   "Miss Kim," he moaned.  "I'm gonna--I have to--we have to--"

   "How does it feel?" I said, feeling my stomach flex as I swiveled my
hips on top of his penis.  I could feel he was very deep now.  I should say
by now we were going at each other pretty vigorously.  I was proficient
enough to keep his penis deep despite all the rocking, so he was feeling
the effects of every thrust, and he was feeling it pretty good.  Better
than ever before, I gathered.

   "I haveta--I haveta--" He moaned.

   "What?" I cried.  "What is it?  Are you going to come, you cute little
honey?  Are you gonna make a mess inside my vagina?"

   "I haveta pee I think!" He cried.

   "It's not pee!" I cried, laughing, feeling my orgasm beginning to roll
up my belly.  "Let it go, honey, let it go!  You're gonna make a big mess
inside me!  Let it go!"

   I thrust my hips desperately, in a battle to beat all his reservations
and confusion by simply overcoming him with sensation.  Then it happened. I
felt his penis reach into me, deeper than ever, and I knew I had the battle
won.  Young-Hun let out a long, wavering moan, his fingers digging into my
hips so hard they left marks.  And then I felt his penis start to twitch,
and just as my orgasm peaked, and I cried out his name, I felt an explosion
of warmth inside me.  Our hip thrusts began producing a slurping sound as
his virgin semen flooded my vagina.  Dizzy with orgasm, I opened my eyes
and looked to see how he was reacting.  His mouth was open in what looked
like a silent scream, his eyes pressed shut.  His penis just kept twitching
and twitching.  His semen leaked out and smeared around my crotch and his
belly as we banged together.

   It must have gone on for a full minute.  I laughed at how ridiculously
long and powerful and youthful his orgasm was, but he wasn't in a state to
notice my reaction.  When finally I felt that his orgasm subsided, I slowed
my hips.  I rested there for a moment, then bent down and kissed him
tenderly on the cheek.  He was worn out, his eyes shut, but he was smiling.


   "You made quite the mess," I said.  "Quite the mess!  I don't think I've
ever seen one like this?  It got out!"

   "Can we clean it up?" He mumbled, opening one eye.

   "Of course, honey.  Your parents will never know," I said.

   "Don't be so sure!"

   We both gasped and looked toward the door.  There stood his mother and
father.  His father's jaw was slack, and his mother had her hands over her
mouth.  Lord only knew how long they had been standing there, for Young-Hun
and I had certainly been in a state to notice little more than each other.
But even if his parents hadn't seen anything but that very moment, it was
bad enough, as I was straddling him, naked, and it was quite clear what we
had been up to.

   I got off their son and his penis, enlarged and purple, slipped out of
my vagina with a flood of semen.  His shocked mother caught a glimpse of
his erection before I tore the blankets off the bed and covered the both of
us.  Young-Hun looked like he was trying to sink into the bed and
disappear.

   "We..." his father said, "we got home early...  thought you were
talking...  then we heard the bed...  What are you DOING?"

   "Mr.  Cho, Mrs.  Cho," I said, "I can explain--"

   "You can NOT!" His mother screamed.  "You're fucking my son!  How dare
you!  He's just a boy!  How could you?  My baby!  My poor baby!  You're
ruining him!"

   "No, I'm not ruining him," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.  "He's
a great kid.  I'm just trying to teach him the birds and the bees--"

   "We wanted you to TALK to him!  Not FUCK him!" She cried.

   "Please," I said.  "No need to swear."

   "Oh, no swearing, but you can ...  screw him?" His mother cried.  "You
sick woman!  I should call the police!"

   "She's not sick!" Young-Hun cried, sitting up.  We all looked at him,
shocked.  "She's trying to teach me the things you make me scared about! 
Guess what?  It's not scary!  It feels great!  I made a mess inside her and
I don't feel bad at all!  It feels NATURAL!"

   That did it.  Mr.  Cho had to restrain Mrs.  Cho from attacking me, and
I took my cue.  I bounded from bed, their son's semen still dripping out of
my vagina, I swear, and gathered my clothes in one motion.  I ran down the
stairs, grabbed my coat and bag, and I heard his mother shouting upstairs.

   "Get back here!" She screamed.  "You bitch!  I'll finish you!  You
bitch!" At that moment, upon hearing the sheer rage in her voice, I
concluded once and for all that all mothers want to make love to their
sons, and they hate any woman who does it instead of them.  Without looking
back I ran out the door, naked as the day I was born.  Fortunately no one
was near, and I slipped between the buildings.  Mrs.  Cho burst out of the
apartment, something in her hands - I never found out what -- but I stayed
still until she went back in, and then dressed hastily.  I was sooo cold. I
made my way to a nearby grocery store, where I borrowed a quarter and
called David after sprucing up a bit in the bathroom.  I told him I had
wanted to pick something up, walked over there, and remembered that I
didn't have any money.

   "Why didn't you just have me drive you there?" He asked.

   "I had to get female stuff," I lied.

   I never did get the check from that last tutoring session, and I didn't
press the issue.  David kept reminding me to call them up, thinking they
were just stiffing me - no pun intended -- but I blew it off until he
finally forgot about it.

   I steered clear of that apartment complex and I didn't see Young-Hun for
a long time.  To tell you the truth, once the hormones were out of my body,
I felt bad about it, though I thought about it a lot.

   It was two years later when I went to the grocery store after a trip to
Korea.  I was jet-lagged and wide awake at 3 a.m., so I took David's car
and went there.  I was passing the candy aisle when I heard a familiar
boy's voice, a little deeper now, accompanied by a girl's voice.  I looked
and there was Young-Hun, taller and more mature-looking, but definitely
him. He was with a pretty little Korean girl.  With one look I could tell
she was totally into him; she was probably taking off her clothes
enthusiastically whenever he asked, which I guessed was pretty often.  He
saw me at the same time and his face went slack.  For a moment I saw that
puppy dog face and, yes, I admit, I felt a little excited.  His girlfriend
saw his face and crooked her eyebrow.  I wondered if she had ever seen that
look, and felt a little satisfaction knowing she probably hadn't.

   "Young-Hun!" I said, coming over.  I gave him a hug.  Stunned, he hugged
me weakly back.  "Good to see you!  What are you doing out so late?  Don't
your parents know?"

   He shrugged.  "Maybe, maybe not," he said.  "They don't get so concerned
about it anymore."

   "Oh," I said.  "Are you still studying English?"

   "No," he said, and smiled, finally.  "You taught me well.  I get along
pretty good."

   "He's VERY good," his girlfriend added.  "Are you his old teacher?  He
always says how good you were."

   I smiled and squeezed his arm.  I let my hand linger there for a second
before pulling it away.  It was amazing, I thought, how one act two years
prior led to these feelings that lasted so long.  I could see he felt it
too, for he blushed slightly and looked away.

   "Well," I said, "don't stay out too late.  Isn't it a school night? 
Goodness.  You're already out too late!"

   "Yeah," he said, soberly.  "We should get going.  Good to see you, Miss
Kim," he said.  I leaned in and hugged him again.  He held me for a second
longer than necessary, and I saw his girlfriend roll her eyes.  Then he
gave me a look and turned and left.  His girlfriend grabbed his arm
jealously and held it tight.  A couple minutes later, as I filled my cart,
however, I heard footsteps coming back.  I looked and it was Young-Hun.  He
was alone.

   "I can't forget," he said, his voice full of enthusiasm.  "I can't
forget how much I loved you."

   I set down the cereal.  "You didn't love me, silly," I said.  "You had a
crush on me, and I took advantage of it.  I probably shouldn't have."

   "No!" He said.  "You taught me something!  It was more than just about
sex.  It was about questioning everything!  It showed me that my parents
didn't always want what was best for me!  It was about freedom!"

   I could see then why he was out so late, without his parents stopping
him.  By making love to him, I had made him grow up too fast.  Too soon he
had seen life beyond the nest, and it made him feel too worldly for the
life lessons his parents wanted him to learn.  As teenagers are apt to do,
he probably fought with them, and he stopped listening to them, and a gap
formed.  To them, he became beyond hope.  I wondered if the price of free
thought was too high.

   I put my hand in his.  "Your parents aren't entirely wrong, you know," I
said.  "They still care for you.  Listen to what they say and take their
advice."

   "How can I?" He said.  "They were trying to keep me under wraps!  And
for what?"

   "Because," I said, "sex is a dangerous thing.  You could get a girl
pregnant, or get an STD, or get obsessed--"

   "I was obsessed with you," he said.  "I spent nights wishing you would
contact me.  Wishing you'd throw pebbles at my window.  Why didn't you come
back?"

   "You're just a boy," I said.  "It wasn't proper.  What I did went too
far."

   He looked at me sullenly.  "You're not going to, are you?" He said.

   "Not what?"

   "Run away with me."

   I laughed.  "I'm lucky enough that your parents didn't call the police.
If I ran away with you I'd definitely be looking at jail time.  Young-Hun,
you're just a boy.  You need time to grow up and figure out what you really
want."

   "What about when I'm 18?" He said.  "Will you come with me then?"

   I smiled at him.  "Find me," I said.  "Maybe then I'll think about it.
Until then, go find your girlfriend.  You have some major making up to do."


   He smiled broadly, leaned in and kissed my lips quickly, and then turned
and ran out.

   That was five years ago.  I haven't seen him since.  I don't know if he
tried to contact me or not.  I had moved a couple of times.  I did run into
his girlfriend one day about a year ago.  I was near the end of my graduate
studies and she was probably a sophomore in college.  I saw her on campus.
She tried to appear indifferent about him when I asked about him, but I
could tell deep down she still felt something for him.

   "I haven't seen him in a while," she said.  Then her eyes flashed.  "You
know, what you did was really wrong."

   "Oh?"

   "Yeah," she said.  "He told me about it after we saw you in the grocery
store.  After you did that he rebelled against his parents on everything,
and they totally stopped trying with him.  He failed class because they
didn't push him at all.  Last I heard he was working on some road
construction crew over in Ohio.  He was really smart, too.  You ruined his
life, you know.  All because you got horny."

   I got defensive.  "Since when does sex cause all the world's problems?"

   "He was only 13!"

   I waved her off and walked away.  But as I drove home I had to wipe
tears from my eyes.  She was right.  I had done too much, too early.  And
after I saw her, for a while I wanted to make everything right.  I wanted
to go find him and ask him to run away with me, to make love to him, to
help him rebuild his life.  But I had no idea how to find him, or even if
he wanted to see me.  Asking his parents was out of the question.  Then
David proposed, and the notion slowly went away.

   I am wracked with guilt to this day, but I still remember his skin.  Oh,
that skin.  And how his penis just erupted inside me.  We women think of
these things too, and don't forget them easily.  Though I don't think I'd
ever go for a teenager again.  The price is too high even if you don't get
caught.  Anyone who reads this should follow my advice, for the teenager's
sake, if not yours.

   But I'm changed now, after this experience of seeing David's writing,
and doing my own writing.  David, you had better watch out.  You should
worry every time you don't know where I am.  I am restless, and there are
lots of men who aren't teenagers anymore.  And I don't think I'll get
caught again.