Chapter 4: Mandy Gives it Up

Thursday afternoon I arrived at the library precisely at 3:30. I took the same table at the back where I had previously met with Mandy. Five minutes later she arrived. I was quite surprised to learn that she had read all the material that I had assigned and had listed three potential topics for her paper. We discussed the topics and she settled on the role of American industrialists in motivating the cold war. She chose as her objective to convince the reader that the cold war was motivated by war profiteering rather than by a defense against communism. I was ecstatic and gave her a reference to Antony Sutton's new work, "National Suicide: Military Aid to the Soviet Union" that had only recently been published. We agreed that she would draft an outline of the paper by our next meeting. Then she stunned me by asking whether I could tutor her in some of her other courses. After some discussion, I agreed. She convinced me that while she wanted to work to her potential in school, she would need my help. Having allowed enough time before her mom would return to pick her up, we walked across the quad to the student center for a soda.

As we sat at a table enjoying our soft drinks, she said, "I've thought a lot about what you said Tuesday about religion and sex. My problem is that I don't really know very much about sex. I admit that I've been rubbing myself for years because it feels good. But that's it. I've never even kissed a boy. There's no sex education in school and Mom won't tell me much except that boys want to get into my panties and I shouldn't let them do it. My friends don't know any more than I do. How am I supposed to learn what I need to know? Can you help me, please?"

"What do you have in mind," I asked.

"Maybe you could start by teaching me how to kiss," she suggested.

I responded, "You do understand that I could go to prison if I did that and anyone ever found out. The age of consent is 16 in this state and you are only 15."

"Please," she begged, "I would never tell anyone. It would just be a kiss. How bad is that?"

"Unfortunately according to the law it's bad enough to send a man to prison," I countered. "But perhaps there is something we could do. Do you have an idea of when and where we could get together for these kissing lessons?"

"How about Saturday morning at your place?" she said.

"How would you get there?" I asked.

"I'll meet you at the library at 9:00," she answered. "I'll tell Mom to pick me up at 1:00. I'm sure she will do it. I showed her what I have done so far on the paper. You were right; she was impressed."

"OK," I agreed, "The library at 9:00 it is. We'll work on the paper for about an hour. Then we'll go to my house for a while. I'll even fix you lunch."

We stood up to walk back across the quad. She gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek saying, "I really appreciate what you are doing for me."

"You're the one who asked for help," I said. "Good things often come to those who seek them."

I left her on the library steps and headed home. I fixed a light dinner and retired to my room to catch up on my reading. Around 8:00 Monica called. When I answered the phone, she told me that she needed to see me again. She suggested Saturday morning, but I told her that I had a commitment until early afternoon. We agreed that she would meet me at the house at 2:00.

Saturday morning at 9:00 found me sitting in the library waiting for Mandy. She arrived about ten minutes late but was unable to contain her excitement.

"I am so up for this," she gushed.

I grinned broadly, "I'm looking forward to it too, but first we have to do some work. You will have to have something to show your mom for the time you spent here."

"You are such a slave driver," she pouted. "Don't you ever blow off responsibility and just do what's fun?"

"Believe me, Mandy," I replied, "I know how to have fun. I also know how to find a balance so that having fun doesn't cost me a price I'm not willing to pay. Now show me what you have done since Thursday."

She pulled a notebook from her book bag that contained the draft outline of her paper with an opening paragraph presenting her objective. I read through both quickly identifying several ambiguities and inconsistencies. Rather than pointing them out directly, I began asking her questions that forced her to understand how another person might perceive what she had written. It gratified me to see that she took notes on all the questions I asked. After about an hour, she had satisfied me that we had covered all the major points. I told her that she had done an excellent job. I expressed the opinion that completing the paper would be relatively easy given the work she had done. She beamed with delight. She packed all her papers back into her book bag as we prepared to leave. I had told her where I was parked so that we could leave the library separately and meet at the car. I was becoming concerned about being seen with her too often. She did not share my sense of paranoia, but agreed to comply with my precautions.

We got in the car, buckled up and headed out. Mandy quickly noticed the gift-wrapped package lying on the seat between us.

"What's that," she asked.

"I'm glad you asked," I replied. "That's a present for you."

"May I open it now?" she pleaded.

"Of course you may," I said, "It's your present."

She quickly tore off the wrapping paper squealing with delight when she saw the new copy of "The Joy of Sex."

"I've heard about this book," she said, "But I've never seen one. I don't even know anyone who has seen it."

"I'm not surprised that you've heard about it," I said. "It was on the New York Times best seller list for weeks. From what I've heard there hasn't been anything like it since the Kama Sutra was translated to English in the last century."

I'm not sure that she even heard me. She was already leafing through the book scanning the table of contents and chapter headings. When I stopped the car in front of the house, she bounded out and ran around the car to hug me.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she exclaimed. "I can learn so much from this book."

"Just be careful that your parents don't see it," I said. "If your mother finds out that you have a copy, she'll want to know where you got it. I doubt she will be very happy to find out that you are seeing me, especially if she learns that I gave you what amounts to a sex manual."

"Yeah," she laughed, "If I get caught with this, I'll be grounded until I graduate from college."

She grabbed my hand practically dragging me into the house. She dropped her book bag on the floor next to the sofa and plopped herself down on it.

Looking up at me, she said, "It's time for you to keep your promise. You have to teach me how to kiss now."

I sat down beside her saying, "It's best to start light and gentle. Just follow my lead."

I put a hand behind her head and pulled her toward me. My lips were slightly parted as they made contact with hers. At first the kiss was just lips to lips contact. Then I softly caressed her lips with my tongue. I pulled my tongue back so she could do the same. She got the message; I felt her tongue gliding over and around my lips. A minute or so later I could feel her breathing a little faster.

I pulled back to ask, "How are we doing so far?"

"Oh my gosh," she gushed, "That makes me feel tingly all over."

"Then I think we're ready for some more," I responded. "This time open your mouth a little more."

We rejoined our lips and I inserted my tongue a little farther into her mouth. At first I ran my tongue over her teeth. Then we began the tongue duel. I pulled her closer to me with one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on her lower back at the waist. I started leaning back until I was lying on the sofa with my legs hanging over the edge. Mandy was lying on top of me with her breasts pressing into my chest. I thought that I could feel her hard nipples through her clothes and mine although it was probably my imagination. I was not imagining the way she was instinctively rubbing her crotch against my hard dick. Suddenly she pushed away from me with an embarrassed expression on her face.

"I'm so sorry," she whined, "I think I peed. I feel wet down there."

Caught by surprise for a moment, I sat up and looked at her. Then I laughed, "You didn't pee, sweetie. You're just getting turned on."

It was clear from her puzzled expression that she did not understand.

I tried a different approach, "What happens when you masturbate," I asked. "You get wet down there, don't you."

"Yeah," she said, understanding creeping across her face, "But why?"

Your body is preparing for sexual intercourse," I answered. "It produces lubrication in your vagina to help the penis enter you. In fact, that's why it's important to have foreplay starting with kisses and caresses. It makes your pussy wet and gives the man a hard dick so he can put it in you and make a baby."

The 'Ah Ha' expression on her face was priceless.

Changing the subject, I suggested, "Let's take a break and have some lunch. I'll try to explain more while we eat."

"OK," she agreed, " But do you have a clothes dryer? I think I need to dry my jeans and panties. Do you have something I can wear while they are drying?"

"Yes," I replied, "We have a dryer."

I pointed her toward my bedroom to change telling her that there was a robe hanging in the closet. I was in the kitchen boiling some hotdogs when she returned carrying her jeans and panties. She was wearing one of my t-shirts that barely covered her crotch. Her nipples denting the front of the t-shirt made it clear that she was wearing nothing underneath. I directed her toward the laundry machines while I set the table with paper plates, mustard, ketchup, relish, potato chips, sodas and hot dog buns. A couple of minutes later she bounced back into the kitchen just as I was taking the hot dogs off the stove. As soon as I had put them on the table, she gave me a kiss and a hug with her arms around my neck. That caused the t-shirt to ride up exposing her charms. I put my hands on her bare ass to pull her tight against me. We were both practically panting when we separated.

"You know, little girl," I gasped, "That's very risky behavior. If you were with any other boy or man than me, you'd already be bent over that table with a hard cock in your pussy getting pregnant."

She jerked herself away from me stunned as I added, "I guess we'll have to add some classes on risk management in sexual relationships to your curriculum. Now sit at the table and let's eat lunch."

She sat down, looked at me with almost teary eyes and said with a very soft voice, "I'm sorry."

I looked at her across the table and said, "No, Mandy, I'm the one who should apologize to you. I shouldn't have spoken to you so harshly. It's just that you scared me. You had me so hot that I was ready to take you then and there."

"You could have, you know," she whispered. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Oh baby," I said, "Your first time should be special. That wouldn't be the way to do it. Besides getting you pregnant would be bad; very, very bad."

We ate our lunch while I gave her a synopsis of human reproductive biology. I tried to emphasize that just describing the process of making love would not fully prepare her for the experience.

"So," she asked, "If just talking about it isn't enough, will you show me?"

"Tell you what," I responded, "I'll give you an introduction to foreplay. But I don't think you are ready to go all the way today. Are you good with that?"

"I'll take what I can get," she grinned.

I took her hand and led her to my bedroom. I stood behind her and told to take off the t-shirt. She grasped the hem of the t-shirt with crossed arms, pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the bed. She started to turn to face me, but I stopped her by grasping her shoulders.

"Do you know about erogenous zones?" I asked.

"No," she answered looking over her shoulder, "What's that?"

"It's a part of your body that responds to stimulation with sexual arousal," I said. "Some erogenous zones are obvious like your breasts and genitals, but you have others too. What gets you hot varies from person to person and probably from time to time. The only way to find out is to experiment."

I started kissing the back of her neck. When she started to shiver, I whispered in her ear, "For example, for some women, the back of the neck is very sensitive."

I reached around her to cup her boobs in my hands. She moaned as I gently caressed them and pinched her nipples. She was panting lightly when I started to move my caresses down over her belly. I pulled her back against me so she could feel my hard cock pressed against her lower back. I slid my hands down to her upper thighs bypassing her center. She trembled and sighed as I pushed her knees apart before moving my hands back up the insides of her legs to her pussy. I put my left hand back on her boobs while I caressed her vulva with my right.

Her knees started to buckle and she groaned, "I don't think I can stand up."

I pulled my hands away and turned her around to push her gently back toward the bed. When the backs of her legs hit the bed, she collapsed onto it with her legs draped over the edge and spread about a foot apart. I lifted a foot to lightly rub up her leg. I was trying to stimulate her without tickling. From the sounds of her moans and the twitches of her hips it seemed to be working. She responded particularly strongly to feather light strokes behind her knees. By the time I reached her upper thighs, her legs were widely spread leaving her pussy open and exposed. She was fully aroused; her inner and outer labia open and gleaming with her secretions. Her clit was engorged protruding from its hood. Her hymen encircled her pussy opening, guarding the entrance to her treasure.

"I wasn't going to do this," I said softly, "But I can't help myself."

I fell to my knees between her legs, lifted them onto my shoulders and lowered my face to her crotch. She had pushed up on her elbows to see what I was doing. I gave her a lick from the bottom to the top of her slit.

She squealed and exclaimed, "Ewww! Gross! You can't lick me there; that's where I pee."

I gave her another lick gratified to see her hips elevate off the bed slightly despite the fact that she had no leverage with her legs draped over my shoulders.

"Let me do that a couple of more times," I replied, "And then tell me to stop."

Apparently she lost her capacity for speech. Thereafter all I heard were moans and squeals between her panting gasps for breath. I continued to lick her, pausing to suck on her clit with each lick. Her squeals increased in frequency as did her hip thrusts in sync with my licks. I was having a hard time keeping my face on her pussy when she went rigid, locking her thighs against my head. It took several moments before she relaxed her legs enough that I could pull my head free.

I gently lowered her legs back to the bed and asked, "Now, sweetie, what do you think of foreplay?"

It took almost half a minute for her panting to slow enough to respond. She looked up at me with barely open, glazed eyes and croaked, "What? ... Oh wow."

I crawled onto the bed beside her, pulled her body tight against me and kissed her gently.

"Would you do anything I told you to for more of that?" I asked.

She nodded in assent.

"That's risk management lesson number one," I said. "Never get in a situation where your passion can overrule your judgment causing you to do things that can harm you. A few moments ago you would have been happy to have unprotected sex with me because I had you so aroused you would have done anything I wanted. But the last thing you need is to get pregnant. Now that you know how powerful those feelings can be, you should have the motivation to stay away from that kind of trouble."

"But what if I want those feelings again?" she whined. "What if I want to have sex?"

"I didn't tell you that you shouldn't have sex," I countered. "I am telling you to make sure you are protected against pregnancy and disease. Make sure that you are having sex with someone you want to have sex with. Don't get in a situation where you are with someone you don't want to fuck and can't stop it from happening."

I paused to take a breath before continuing, "Now we'd better get you dressed and back to the library before your mom comes to pick you up."

"I can't put my clothes back on," she griped. "You made me wetter than I was before."

"I think we still have time for a quick shower," I grinned, "If you promise to behave while I wash you."

She smiled a devious smile, "I think I can do that."

I took her hands to pull her to her feet. Without warning she bounded toward the bedroom door headed for the bathroom. I was right behind her when I heard Paul give a wolf whistle and exclaim, "Wow!"

Mandy blushed bright red from head to toes as she raced for the bathroom. The door almost slammed in my face. I came in with her and shut the door behind us. She stood there naked with her hands over her face moaning, "I'm sooo embarrassed."

"Well," I said, "That's what can happen when you run around naked in a house full of guys. You start the water; I'll go round up your clothes."

I went to the clothes dryer to retrieve her jeans and panties. On the way back, Paul accosted me, "I hope you know what you're doing with that jail bait? I don't want to see you get in trouble."

"I'll talk to you later," I replied as I headed back to the bedroom to get the rest of Mandy's clothes.

I entered the bathroom to find Mandy already in the shower. I put her clothes on the counter and asked her whether she wanted me to join her. She told me that she wouldn't be responsible for what would happen if I got in the shower with her nude. I realized then that we didn't have time for a shower together. I left her alone to finish washing and dressing. She came out of the bathroom freshly scrubbed and dressed. We gathered up her books and book bag and headed for the car. At the last minute I ran back into the house to put a fan in the bedroom window. I wanted the room aired out before Monica arrived. I dropped Mandy off behind the library at 12:45 having agreed to meet again at our regular time on Tuesday. I went back home to change the sheets on my bed and put the dirty sheets in the wash. Paul left around 1:30 to meet some friends. I was alone sitting on the sofa reading when the doorbell rang promptly at 2:00.

I opened the door to find Monica standing there on the porch. She looked like a movie star with her brown wool skirt and tan cashmere cardigan sweater. Two-inch low heels, large designer sunglasses, a floppy brimmed hat and a very large shoulder bag completed the ensemble. Without even saying hello, she brushed by me to enter the house.

Then she said, "Bill, we need to talk. But first I need to use your bathroom."

I took a seat on the sofa amused by her staged dramatic entrance. I was eager to see what she had planned to do next. A couple of minutes later she rejoined me in the living room and sat next to me on the sofa. It was obvious from the way her stiff nipples poked out against the soft cashmere of her sweater that she had shed her bra. I speculated whether the rest of her underwear had migrated to her oversized handbag.

"Bill," she started, "I left here Wednesday in turmoil and I have been in turmoil since then. I'm still not convinced that you can't really read minds. Everything you said that you deduced was correct and more. I was dating Jonathan when I was an undergraduate. He married me because I got pregnant. Fortunately, my parents supported us so I could complete my degree. It was rough trying to keep house, care for an infant and keep up with school work, but I did it."

She paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "When we graduated, I got a teaching job while Jonathan continued in school until he got his PhD. Even though he got a university position, I still had to work to help pay off his student loans. As the spouse of a university employee, I got a discount on tuition and books so I was able to complete my masters in education. That time of my life was even more demanding. At least Amanda was in school. But I had to raise her, keep house, work and take graduate classes. Jonathan is very old fashioned about many things. To him, there is woman's work and man's work. The woman is supposed to take care of the house and raise children. The man brings home the bacon. The only reason he let me work was that we couldn't have survived without my income. When he had advanced enough to support the family on his income, he wanted me to quit my job. I refused. I just couldn't give up something that gave me such a sense of accomplishment."

"Given your husband's attitudes," I interjected, "I'm surprised that he didn't insist that you have more children."

"I think that is a big conflict area for Jonathan," she said. "Our religion tells him to go forth and multiply, but he isn't really comfortable around children. In fact, he isn't all that comfortable around people in general. After having Amanda, I insisted that we use condoms until he completed his education. Then we struggled to make ends meet while paying off his debts and completing my education. By then Amanda was 11 years old and I didn't think I could handle that big an age gap in my children."

"That reminds me," I said, "What kind of birth control are you using now? I didn't use a condom on Wednesday. Are we risking an unplanned pregnancy? How would you explain that to Jonathan?"

She looked down and said softly, "I think we'll be OK. I just finished my period last weekend. But when we do it again, you have to use a condom."

She looked up into my eyes with a wan smile, "I guess I just admitted that I am going to cheat on Jonathan again. Before I met you I thought I had a good sex life. Jonathan and I make love once a week, most often on the weekend. He usually gets me off but our sex is plain vanilla. I wouldn't dare suggest oral. He thinks that would be the devil's own perversion. We've never used any position other than missionary. If it weren't for my reading women's magazines, I wouldn't even know that there are other positions. His idea of foreplay is rubbing my breasts and vagina until I get wet. Then he sticks it in and fucks me until he cums. I usually cum too, at least half the time. If I don't cum before he's done, I rub myself until I get off."