Chapter 17

Doris and I spent less and less time together and I began to worry that my parents would have no use for her and would send her away. One night I went to her room and knelt beside her bed. After a moment, she looked at me. “Yes, my petal?”

“I am worried. If you are not my teacher, will Dad send you away?”

“Oh, my sweet, you have many lessons left to learn.”

I thought for a moment and then decided to ask. “Will you teach me your secrets?”

She tilted her head slightly. “And what secrets are those, my pet?”

“I have tasted other girls juices and they are not as yours is. I cannot hear their voices in my mind as I do yours. And there is more...” I hesitated, not knowing how to say what it was I felt with her. “I feel ... with you, I feel ... different.”

She looked at me thoughtfully for a very long time. Then, she lifted her robe to expose to me her wet and warm pussy. “Stick your tongue out. Now touch my clitoris and say the word.”

Suddenly, the lesson became perfectly clear. I could not say the word ‘clitoris’ clearly with my tongue extended – not physically. I flicked the tip of my tongue against her clitoris and in my mind, in the same place and way I seemed to hear Doris, I ‘said’ “Clitoris.”

“Labia.” she thought.

“Labia.” I thought in reply.

We completed naming her parts twice before I was overcome with desire and proceeded to suck her pussy with unrestrained joy. When she came, I heard her voices, physical and mental, both crying out with rapture.

“Oh my sweet pet!” she thought to me with resonating joy. “I had not hoped that you would take to the art so soon or so well.” She pulled me to her and kissed my face and hugged me.

“Oh Doris!” I thought back. “I can feel your bliss as I feel my own!”

“Yes, my pet! And with practice, you will feel the joy of all your lovers – perhaps even share yours with them.” She sat me beside her. “But you must now be careful. If you will follow the path of the art you must be vigilant in its practice and you must – for a time – have no contact with men.”

“None?” I said aloud and thought of Mike.

“No sexual contact, my pet. You may kiss this boyfriend of yours and hold him but you must not have sex until after you have blossomed to womanhood.”

My heart leapt to my throat. “Why, Doris? Is it a sin?”

She laughed gently. “Oh, my sweet flower! What is sin to a practitioner of the art of pleasure? Most women who come to the art are older and therefore do not have this concern. But you come to it young – before womanhood. True practitioners do not age, become forever young and desirous. We seek pleasure and give pleasure in return. The semen of men brings us great joy and only implants a child if we so will. But in one so young, the art would hold such a seed and never allow further growth. You would remain ever as you are – beautiful, fresh, young but forever a child. Always the bud and never the blossom.”