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Subject: teaching sex.txt
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she teaches sex.txt

	I represented our state in the Miss America contest when I was
eighteen.  My family and friends all think I'm beautiful, as does my
husband, but most of them know nothing of my real self.  If they did,
I'd probably be labeled promiscuous, but that's not the right word at
all to describe what I really am, although it's true that I'm different
from all but a few girls.  For instance, I seldom wear panties or bra,
and pantyhose only if I cut out the crotch or they're crotchless to
begin with.  Curious?

	Dr. Grace, of course, knows more about me than anybody.  As a
psychiatrist, it's his job.  I started seeing him about two years ago
when I was 26-years-old, not because I was unbalanced or anything like
that, but because in listening to my friends talk I had realized I was
so different, if not a freak, then at least one-in-a-million.  I desired
men.  Men desired me.  It seemed so simple and satisfying, that is, we
could satisfy each other.  Instinctively I knew my husband would never
understand, nevertheless, I continued to be obsessed with sensual,
sexual living.  Some sex was never enough, neither was a lot.  I always
was ready for more, always wanted more.  I love having sex.  I love
fucking.  I love to be fucked.  I love any form of sex.  Dr. Grace says
that it is a simple matter of me having sex while very young and it
being very good.  The first time exceptionally good, that and each time
after being good addicted me to great sex.  It is quite unusual for a
pretty woman to have such a down to earth view of sex, Dr. Grace says. 
It's usually plain women so blessed, women who feel the need to please
their men.  I dunno.

	The lover I have now is a few years older, wealthy, and can easily
afford to pay for the furnished apartment where I meet him several times
a week.  Unlike most women, I don't love him in the usual sense, instead
I love love with him.  Dr. Grace says there's nothing wrong with using
my sexual drive to the fullest.  Some have a strong drive as I do, some
don't.  In my case it's an all consuming passion that never leaves me. 
If Sam Johnson (my lover) can't make it, as often happens on weekends
and sometimes during the week, I simply take another available man to
the apartment.  No, I see nothing wrong with that.  My husband makes
love to me almost nightly, and does an excellent job of it, but I always
need and want more.  You see, I have to have lovers.

	I accidentally learned how to masturbate when I went to my parents bed
one Sunday morning when I was eight.  I was in bed with them only a
short while when my mother for some reason decided to go to the store. 
Alone in bed with Dad, I had a wrestling match with him.  I remember
enjoying the cuddles and embraces as Dad tried to get the best of me and
then decided, I suppose,to let me win.  He lay on his back, his pajamas
undone, my own nightie was up around my waist, and when I straddled him,
my naked pussy came down on Dad's very large, hard penis which was
resting on his stomach pointing toward his head, I rocked my bottom back
and forth rubbing my lips and clitoris along his long tool while Dad lay
very still.  It was at that moment I learned to masturbate.  Nothing
like that ever happened again, and Dr. Grace says that that is good, but
he thinks what really got me off on the right sexual track was a chance
encounter a few years later that turned out exceedingly well.  Things
don't usually go so well for most girls, he said.

	When I was about fourteen, I went downstairs one morning to get
breakfast completely nude.  It was summer and my parents and brother had
gone for the day, and it just felt good to walk around the big empty
house naked.  I still remember well the good sensual feelings stirring
within me as I walked around caressing my naked body, but I was in error
about one thing, my brother.  I had left the kitchen and was headed for
the stairs.  As I rounded a corner at the foot of the stairs, I bumped
into my brother.  He was a year older and as naked as I (he thought I
had gone with our parents).  For a moment we just stood there drinking
in the details of each others body, but then I noticed a distinct change
happening in his.  His flaccid cock was growing and stiffening.  I
watched in fascinated amazment as it raised and stood out as straight as
a flagpole.  We were facing each other...very close.

I slowly turned and mounted the first step, determined to make the best
of it by rushing upstairs, but something made me pause and turn. 
Standing on the bottom step, I was now about as tall as he, and as he
took a step towards me, it was obvious our "parts" were perfectly
aligned.  I was instantly and completely disabled by a zap of high
voltage when his hot, throbbing penis touched my clitoris.  Just like it
had been that time with Dad. Zing!  That was all for me.

	We spent the morning exploring each other's body and trying new and
different things: "Does this feel good, Lisa? This, too?"
"Oh, yes, Bob, don't stop!"  And so the morning flew by and I lost my
virginity, or rather, I gave my virginity to brother Bob.

	Now, Sam, my lover, has put another character into my life.  Last
April on a bright sunny day he calmly asked me if I'd please take his
14-year-old son to train and initiate into the wonders of the sexual
world.  I was shocked, but flattered, and agreed to do the thing he
wanted.  Teach a virgin boy?  Oh, yes, I couldn't wait to begin.  Three
days later our love sessions began.

	I had decided that the best way to start was very, very slow so I
wouldn't embarrass the boy.  The door chime at the apartment sounded
right at the appointed time.  I answered the door and invited the
blushing youngster in.  I was wearing heels, pantyhose (no crotch, of
course), and a pretty blouse and a short skirt to show off my legs.  We
had a coke in the breakfast nook so I would have time to talk and
reassure him.  Gradually he calmed down, and after a few minutes I told
him I wanted to show him the rest of the apartment.  I took his hand and
began leading him from room to room.  It was easy to see that he gained
more confidence with every passing moment.  Finally, I stopped so
suddenly that he couldn't avoid bumping into me, and asked him to help
me undress.  I stood calmly facing him and waiting for his next move.  I
tried to appear seductive and sumissive.

	He blushed furiously, but didn't back off when I guided his hands to
the buttons on my blouse, which came off quickly and easily.  The bra
was another matter.  When he finally got it off I put his hands on my
ample breasts and pulled his head down so that his lips were touching my
nipples.  He immediately kissed and sucked them, and so began the
conversion of a virgin to a very adept Lothario...a young seducer par
excellence!

	I'd be remiss if I didn't first of all mention his natural endowments
and gifts.  Sammy had more of everything than father Sam.  He was
taller, athletic build, fair hair, blue eyes and very, very handsome,
though immature as a boy would be. The first surprise was that his tool
was larger than most, the second, that he had greater control than
most.  I had stumbled on to a gem.

	That first time I was on my back and he was lunging and
thrusting...literally fucking up a storm.  In less than a minute I had
an orgasm, then another (who is teaching who here) and another.  I had
thought to let him "have a go" this first time, knowing full well he
would shoot at once if not "shoot in the bushes."  Such was not the
case.  After ten minutes he finally begged, "Oh, please, mamn, please
let me come."  I couldn't believe it, but managed a frantic "yes! oh god
yes! Now, NOW!"

	Ten minutes later he was at me again, rock hard and as sex starved as
the first time.  I lost count of my orgasms, and after 25 or 30 minutes
finally gasped, "my god, Sammy, come now.  Oh, please, now, NOW!"  Then
he held me, kissed me, caressed me and petted me for an hour or more,
until I again wanted his great, hard shaft in my sheath. Sammy not only
possessed a king sized tool, but the control and stamina to go as long
and as often as required.  He was a natural.  I taught him very little,
instead, I became the rare recipient of the greatest gift a sexual woman
could ever receive.  If I was a nymphomaniac, he was my satyr.

	The rules have changed now.  Sam knows I mean it when I say he can
have any afternoon with me only so long as I have as many mornings with
Sammy.  Let's just say I love to teach!

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