Educating Samantha

by God of Porn

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft, Consensual, Lesbian, BDSM, FemaleDom, Spanking, First, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Teacher/Student, School, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: When 14 year old Samantha proposed lowering the age of consent, she only wanted a good grade on her civics assignment. Be careful what you ask for, right?

Chapter 1

My name is Samantha, but most everyone calls me Sammie, or sometimes just Sam. It's a boy's name, I know, but nobody ever really accused me of being a boy, I was just teased sometimes by the kids at school. They stopped doing that last year though, right after I had my little 'growth spurt' or whatever you want to call it. I called it a miracle.

It was like overnight I grew from just five feet nothing to 5'4" and all the baby fat around my tummy moved up to my boobs. Well, some moved down to my hips too, I guess, maybe even my butt. I went from wearing no bra at all to wearing a 30B cup! I have a slender waist and nice round hips, which seemed like totally the opposite of what they were just a few months before. I had to buy all new clothes, which was way cool too, and ... well, you get the idea. The point is that instead of looking like a cute little butterball, I started looking like a beautiful young woman.

I'll admit I got a little hung up on myself. I started worrying about how the rest of me looked, like my hair. Its auburn, mostly brown but with a little red in it too, and I had it cut to my shoulders with a bunch of waves permed into it. I've worn glasses since I was seven years old and Daddy let me get contacts, which was a big deal cause I could get colored contacts, three for the price of two. So now instead of boring old brown eyes, I have green sometimes, or blue, and even brown. But instead of boring brown, these are more like hazel with flecks of gold. So now my eyes look the way they're supposed to. Even after I get eye surgery when I'm like sixteen or seventeen maybe, I'll still wear colored contacts I think, even though I won't need them.

I turned fourteen the very day school started this year and nobody teased me about my name. I'm in the eighth grade, but I'm what they call 'accelerated' so I skip some of the regular classes and take others that my friends don't. I've always been accelerated and I could have skipped a grade, probably two, but I didn't really want to, and my dad didn't make me. I have two sisters, Stacy and Darin, they were accelerated too and now they're sophomores in college, even though they're only seventeen years old. They're twins. I don't have a twin, so the idea of skipping grades and going to college early and being alone just doesn't sound like fun. I'll wait for my friends, you know?

Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm good at everything though. English and math I'm really good at, but some stuff, like civics, I'm sort of bad at. Mostly because it is so boring all the time! It's hard to concentrate when you just don't care, and I spend most of my time in civics just writing poems and haiku, or maybe a little story like this one about my life. I like writing stories about myself and my family because it's like keeping a diary except better. In a diary you're pretty much just writing to yourself, but a story, even a true one, is meant to be shared. I want to be a famous writer someday, or maybe an astronaut, I haven't decided yet. Probably I'll do both and be very famous, and maybe even have my own MTV show someday.

I need good grades if I want to be an astronaut, I know that. If I'm just a writer it won't matter so much, but to do both I need a good college degree and that means I need a good college, like Harvard, or Princeton maybe. So that means I need some scholarship money, since my dad can't afford a school like that! My sisters go to college for free though, so why not me? I just needed really good grades, that's all, even in 8th grade civics because who knows how far back those college guys look when they start writing checks? I don't, and I don't want to take any chances and end up going to a college like Stanford or something, where all they teach is basket weaving!

"What's wrong, Punkin?" Daddy asked me. He'd always called me pumpkin, but he made it sound funny and I'd liked it when I was little. But then I'd sort of resented it for a little while, since I thought I'd looked like a pumpkin for a couple years. Now that I didn't though, so I sort of liked it again cause I didn't look like a pumpkin at all.

"I have to write a paper for civics." We were eating supper, just me and my dad. My brother, who was fifteen, had basketball practice. He'd had a growth spurt at about fourteen as well, and now he was almost six feet tall and sort of clumsy. He was a good basketball player though, when he wasn't tripping over stuff. Boys are sort of weird.

My dad shrugged. "That shouldn't be too hard. Do you want some help with it?" He was always trying to help me with stuff, but I never needed it, and usually ended up explaining stuff to him. Especially physics, he was terrible at it, but he liked to try anyway.

"No, that's okay. I just have to think of a law I'd like to change and why." I chewed my food slowly; it was dad's special tuna casserole. He put croutons in it, that's why it's special.

"Hmmm..." He nodded. "Have you got any ideas?"

"Not yet. I was thinking about maybe fourteen year olds should be able to drive." It wasn't a very good idea, but it was something anyway.

Daddy chuckled. "I think they shouldn't give out licenses until people are twenty-six at least."

"Yeah right!" I giggled at his teasing. "That would really get Jeremy mad." My brother was started his driver's education class and Daddy had promised him a car for his sixteenth birthday. He was pretty excited about that.

I cleaned up after supper, still wondering which law I would change and why. Every law I could think of sounded pretty good, but I didn't know all the laws though. I don't think anybody does, so maybe I just needed to look for a stupid one, like one of those 'it's illegal to spit on the sidewalk before noon on Thursdays without a state spitting permit' or something. Whatever it was, I need it to be a good one, because I needed to ace that assignment. My teacher, Mr. Lawson, could be a real jerk and he wouldn't hesitate to give me a B or even a B- if I wasn't careful. I suspected Harvard wouldn't even think about taking someone who got a B- in civics!

riiing

I was in my room, surfing the internet and looking for good laws to change, meaning bad ones, when my phone rang. My dad had told me once that a long time ago people couldn't get online and talk on the phone at the same time, but that seemed sort of silly to me; what good was that? I almost wished there were a law against talking on the phone and surfing the net simultaneously; that would have been a good one to change. But I guess it had only been a bad idea, and someone had fixed it. I got a cellular phone for my 14th birthday and I couldn't even imagine not having one now, barely a few months later.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" It was my sister Darin, everybody calls her Dare, but not because she's adventurous or anything, she isn't. Dare is a total bookworm, way more than me, and a thousand times more than Stacy. Darin does homework the way kids eat ice cream, as fast as they can until they get a headache, and then they eat more. She does homework so fast that she does Stacy's too. I wished she'd do mine.

"Hi, nothing, just doing my homework." We talked for awhile about school and the report I was supposed to write and then about Daddy and then about her and Stacy. Darin calls me a lot, since we didn't have a mom or anything, and that was okay. I like my sisters.

"Here, Stacy wants to say hello," Darin finally said after our goodbyes.

"Hi munchkin." Stacy was smiling; I could hear it over the phone. She always smiles and people like her a lot. Especially boys. Dare doesn't really like boys, I don't think. She had one boyfriend once, but that was all, and she never even kissed him so far as I know. If I had a boyfriend I'd be kissing him all the time! All the boys I know are pretty boring though, sort of stupid too. So maybe not.

"Hi Stace." We started talking about the same stuff I'd just talked to Darin about, except Stacy had an idea for my civics assignment. She always had ideas, but they were usually really strange and ended up making you wonder how she ever thought they could possibly work. But sometimes she had good ones too.

"So you need to get an A on it, huh?" She made a little sound like she was thinking. "Hmmmm..."

"Do you know any good laws to change?" I asked her hopefully, but if Dare couldn't think of one, then I seriously doubted Stacy would.

"Maybe," she said, "Tell me about this teacher of yours."

"Mr. Lawson?" I shrugged even though Stacy couldn't see it. "I don't know, he's just a teacher."

"Is he young? Old? Friendly? Nice? Mean?" Stacy asked, not giving me time to answer. "Does he ever, uh..."

"What?"

Stacy paused like she was wondering if she should say what she wanted to, or maybe she was looking to make sure Darin couldn't hear her, and I sensed one of her whacky ideas coming.

"Come on, what?" I asked impatiently, feeling curious now.

"Well, does he ever look at you?" Stacy had lowered her voice a little. "You know, like ... Look at you?" She stressed the words like they meant something else.

I'm not dumb; I knew what she was asking. After I turned thirteen I noticed a lot of guys looking at me, and not just boys my age either. I mean men who were older, like way older sometimes. It had made me a little uncomfortable at first, but mostly because I still thought of myself as being sort of short and round, instead of tall and curvy. Once I got used to it I started liking it and I even went out of my way sometimes to make sure those guys got a good look at the new me. It wasn't hurting anything and it made me feel good about myself, so what's wrong with that?

"Um, well, sometimes he sort of stares at me," I admitted. "He looks mad though if I catch him, well, not mad, just..." I had to think about it.

"Embarrassed?" Stacy laughed, "A little guilty maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"That's good then!" My sister sounded happy. "Here's what you do then, look up this law 'Statutory Rape' and write your paper about that."

"Statutory Rape?" I frowned a little as I wrote it down. "Why would I want to change a law against rape?" I wondered aloud.

"It's not what you think," Stacy said, giggling.

"What should I say?"

"Just read the law, the interesting parts, and you'll know what to do," Stacy assured me. "Just don't pull a Darin, 'kay?"

A Darin was what Stacy called it if you chickened out of something. It was a phrase that really annoyed Dare and always made me laugh.

"Okay," I said, not really sure what I was agreeing to.

"Good. If you run into trouble just give me a call, right?"

"Uh-huh." We said our goodbyes and hung up our phones and I went to work on my paper, finding the information I needed and typing it up the way Mr. Lawson told he us wanted it. I really did know what to do!


Pavageau, Samantha K. 11 Nov. 2011

Civics II – Mr. Lawson

Assignment 2 – C

Proposed changes to Washington State Code 17.2.1d and 23.1.1a

Statutory Rape of a Minor

By S.K. Pavageau

Under the current laws in the State of Washington any person over the age of seventeen who for sexual purposes touches another person under the age of sixteen may be found guilty of Statutory Rape of a Minor. This touching is not limited to, nor solely defined as sexual intercourse, but may include any contact of a physical nature if such contact is determined by the state to be willfully committed for the purpose of sexual gratification. The accused is not entitled to claim defense on the grounds of consent or mistake regarding the victim's age.

Washington law states that persons under the age of sixteen are incapable of providing consent. I propose that this law be changed to reflect the increasing level of maturity not only expected of young women today, but also evidenced by them every day. As our culture has advanced through medicine, education, and social reform, we must be willing and able to recognize that as individuals we too have advanced rapidly over the last several generations. While our youth must always be protected, it should be acknowledged that as conditions change, so too must our perception of those conditions.

Although not physically mature, the issues of sexual and emotional maturity are the factors with which we must be concerned. While this law is not gender specific and applies equally to male and female, I feel justified in proposing the age of consent be lowered to that determined by nature itself in the form of sexual maturity, particularly for females. By the age of thirteen most young women have begun menstruating and are capable of ovulation; males have begun producing sperm. Through normal and healthy physical contact there is no danger of physical injury and in fact it is just that sort of contact our biology and instinct require at that stage of human development.

Emotionally, once again the conclusion must be reached that today's youth is better educated, informed, and independent than any previous generation, despite the fact that earlier in our nation's history it was not uncommon for a woman of 14 or 15 to be married and raising a family of her own. As society changed to allow greater economic independence and improved opportunities for such things as leisure and education, the reliance on young women to support the community was lessened and even regarded with suspicion. We have experienced a moral reformation over the past century, which is an unnecessary burden on our society.

I propose lowering the age of consent to thirteen years with the sincere belief that this will reduce or even eliminate many of the problems which we now face. By allowing young women to experience sexual contact not only with persons their own age, but most especially with men (and women) possessing a significant advantage in terms of experience and maturity, we provide our young adults with the tools necessary for more effective and efficient integration with society. Rather than the needless fear and cultural paranoia surrounding the secretive relationships that currently exist between minors and adults, we should embrace them for what they are: opportunities to strengthen our social bonds and end this bitter hypocrisy which we have endured far too long.

Thank you.

(signed) Samantha K. Pavageau

phone #0968117443


It took me a long time to write my report and I spent a lot of time after that rewriting it, because I wanted to sound like I knew what I was talking about. Big words are always good for a little extra credit and I was hoping I used enough of them to get me a little plus sign, you know? Like a B+ would be really good, and if I was gonna get that anyway, then an A- would be way cool. Anyway, I figured my report would be good enough for a B and if I'd understood Stacy and what she'd seemed to be suggesting, then Mr. Lawson might just find it interesting enough to give me an A. I sure hoped so! I even put my celphone number at the bottom, underneath my signature, just in case he had any questions about it.

It was kind of fun doing that assignment, I have to admit. It made me feel a little funny inside, sort of warm, when I paused to think about what I was really saying. The idea that a man could just ask me on a date, a grown up man I mean, that seemed silly maybe, but nice too. Why wouldn't I want a boyfriend who was a lot older than me? He'd probably know all sorts of stuff, like how to kiss and all that. He could show me how to be a real woman and I wouldn't have to worry about some boy my age trying to figure it all out as we went along. Yeah, I thought as I slipped into bed after my bath, it would definitely be okay with me if a real man wanted to teach me about sex.

I felt like I was growing a little more, lying under my covers in my little sleepy t-shirt. It had been big on me once, but I'd gotten a lot taller, so now it barely covered my butt. I had a new one, but I liked my old one, it was soft and comfortable and I rubbed the cotton material over my breasts cause my nipples were itching. They did that sometimes, especially if I was thinking about sex stuff. They got puffy and hard and even felt cold sometimes, which was strange, but then they'd get hot again too.

When I rubbed my boobs it made my sex feel good, like they were connected somehow. I'd had my sex ed class already, in seventh grade, so I knew about my body. Besides, I was on the internet a lot and that taught me a whole bunch more that my teacher hadn't bothered to mention. I found one web site once, completely by accident, I swear, that taught girls how to masturbate. It's true! There were pictures and everything, not drawings either, I mean photographs of pretty girls my age who were doing it. So I knew about my clitoris and everything, except my clit was really tiny and it felt good, but I wished it was a little bigger. It was like it was hiding from me mostly.

The first time I'd had an orgasm I thought I'd broken something down there. It sounds dumb, I know, but I really did. I thought I'd hurt myself because it was like getting kicked in the head, sort of, if my head had been down low in my tummy. It's hard to explain. It had felt good though, like a good kick in the head, and that had worried me even more. When I'd called Darin to ask her about it she'd just handed the phone to Stacy, saying that was her department. My sister had just laughed at me and told me to do it just like that every time, but she was kidding because later she told me other ways to do it that felt just a good, but different too. Stacy knows a lot about sex. She just told me to be careful not to break my cherry, because I should save that for a real man.

"For him?" I'd asked her, thinking she meant it was like I owed a man a favor or something. We were sitting in my room during one of her visits back home from college. She and Darin came home once a month or so, sometimes more.

"No! Bonehead!" She laughed. "For you, but you need a man to break it right, otherwise you'll always be wondering."

"Really?" I wondered.

"Yep, just ask Darin," Stacy suggested. "She broke hers with her best friend's hairbrush."

"Huh?" I laughed because it had to be a joke, right?

"I'm not joking," Stacy grinned at me. "She got so excited it just went POP right through her cherry."

"Didn't Lisa get mad?" I asked, still not entirely believing my sister's story. Lisa was Dare's best friend and had been since the 6th grade.

Stacy laughed like she'd been waiting for me to ask. "Who do you think was holding the hairbrush?"

"No!" I gasped. "Really?" I knew Darin was different, but I guess that was the first time I'd really contemplated her sexuality.

"Cross my heart," Stacy told me solemnly, moving her fingers over her breast.

"How old were they?" I wondered.

"Same as you, munchkin, fourteen." Stacy tousled my hair a little. "So stay away from hair brushes," she grinned and wagged a finger in my face. "And girls named Lisa!"

"Uh, okay," I'd replied and life had gone on, but I'd always been careful with my hymen. I figured Stacy had been serious about that. It was hard though since my cherry was right there, you know? I couldn't hardly get the tip if my finger inside before I felt it stretching, like a little pinch and then I'd stop, cause I didn't want to break it by accident! That would be even worse than my best friend using a hairbrush!


Chapter 2

I turned in my report along with everyone else in my class, handing Mr. Lawson my assignment folder and watching him closely. I really wanted to see if he was going to look at me, because I hadn't paid all that much attention to it before. Sure enough as he walked around the class his eyes kept drifting over to me.

I'd worn a black skirt that day, just for him, and a tight pink sweater that really hugged my boobs and left my belly button exposed. The school had a dress code, so the girls had to wear a skirt or dress anyway, but this one was sort of shorter than the 1 inch above the knee it was suppose to be. This was more like mid-thigh, but lots of girls broke that rule cause we were always growing, you know? And I wasn't supposed to be showing my belly button either, but I didn't care. As long as I avoided Ms. Collins I was okay, she was a bitch sometimes, and she'd make a girl stay after school without a second's thought. Especially for showing a belly button, it was like she was always looking to see if she could spot a belly button. I didn't have her class that day though, so I figured I'd be okay.

I'd made a real mistake not wearing my bra. That sweater felt nice and warm, but it rubbed my nipples raw! It was like a cat was licking my skin all day long and driving me crazy. Worst of all though, it made my nipples hard as little pebbles and they stuck out a little so I was always trying to cover them up somehow, but that's hard to do all the time in school. I had a lot of people looking at me that day! Three boys even asked me out during lunch, which was nice, but I had to say no since my dad wasn't ever gonna let me date somebody when I was just turned 14 years old.

I've been asked out like a hundred times I bet since I turned thirteen and finally grew up a little. Lot's of older guys too, high school and even some college guys, but mostly boys around my age. At first I didn't know what to say and I was scared by it. Then I started getting used to the attention and I liked it, especially when I realized it was the boys who were mostly nervous. I wanted to say yes, mostly, just because I really wanted to go on a date, but I never did. At least not until after I'd turned in my report to Mr. Lawson.

He was looking at me all through class and I was careful not to catch him doing it. I didn't want him to get mad or embarrassed or anything, I wanted him to look at me and think about me when he was grading my paper. I kept my arms up, with my chin in one hand or the other, or sometimes both, covering my breasts and my hard itchy nipples. But sometimes I put them down too, when I knew Mr. Lawson would get a good look and see that I wasn't wearing my bra. That pink sweater wasn't very thick and my nipples are caramel brown and even darker when they're hard, so I think he could see them, just a little.

Even if he couldn't see my nipples though, he could definitely see my panties. That skirt was short, too short for sitting normally at a desk. I had to be careful and sit straight and cross my legs. And still I had to pull it down once in awhile, even after all that! In Mr. Lawson's class I didn't pay so much attention to my skirt. It was riding high on my long legs, still tanned from the summer that had just ended, and I didn't always have my legs crossed. A couple times I uncrossed them and just seemed to forget that Mr. Lawson could look right up between my thighs and see my panties, which were white as fresh snow. I was a little moist down there too, but I'm sure Mr. Lawson couldn't have known that. It was just a little bit, the sort of slippery greasy feeling I get sometimes when I've been daydreaming. I like that feeling a lot, actually, and if I get it at home I mostly go to my room and rub my clit for awhile. Of course I couldn't do that in school, but I wanted to.

When the bell rang I gathered my books and purse slowly, trying to be the last one out of the room., but there were 5 or 6 guys even slower than me for some reason, so they were following me out. I still managed to give Mr. Lawson a friendly smile though.

"I hope you like my report, Mr. Lawson," I told him.

"I, uh, I'm sure I will, Samantha." He licked his lips and turned his eyes away, like he was looking for something important all of a sudden.

I spent the rest of the day talking to boys and hanging with my friends, who thought I was crazy for dressing like I was.

"You're gonna get raped, probably," Stephanie, my best friend predicted. But I didn't think it was that bad and I just laughed at her. I did feel a little self-conscious though, especially when I walked past the table where the girls I didn't like were sitting.

"What a slut," someone said, I think it was Katie Sands, she never liked me, especially after I got prettier than her. I just ignored their jealous laughter though; I didn't really care what they thought anyway.

The bad thing was that I was spending so much time trying to cover my puffy nipples that I forgot all about my little inny belly button.

"Excuse me, Miss Pavageau, may I speak with you for a minute?" It was Ms. Collins; I'd have recognized that voice anywhere, especially since she was from London. I thought that must be why she acted so strange and most of my friends agreed that England must be really weird. She talked like she was in an old movie or something, like a Harry Potter movie maybe.

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