It was after services, and Polly was nearing the end of teaching her Sunday School class of six fourteen year old boys when there was a ruckus at the back of the room. "Don't you dare," she heard Billy say.

"I'm going to tell," Jerry said.

"Don't, or I'll kill you."

"Hey! Hey!" Polly said, loudly. "We don't talk like that in here. What's going on?"

"Billy told me that his girlfriend let him touch her."

"She didn't," Billy said.

"You mean Susan?" Polly asked.

"She didn't let me touch her. We only talked about it."

"Sit down, all of you," Polly said. "Jerry?"

"Yes Miss Polly?"

"Do you think it's wrong for a boy to touch a girl?"

"Uh huh, that's what the Reverend told us."

"What do you think, Billy?"

"I don't know. I heard my mom and dad talk about... you know... when they were kids... playing around."

"It's only natural for boys and girls your age to be curious about each other. You're growing up, and you have powerful feelings for each other. In my family we think it's okay for boys and girls to have natural curiosity and do things like Billy's parents did, as long as the boy and the girl are around the same age and both are willing."

"She showed me her breasts," Billy admitted, sheepishly. The boys knew he was bragging. "But you'd better not call her a slut or tell anyone. She was just being nice to me."

"It's okay Billy," Polly said. She looked at all the boys. "I don't want anyone repeating anything that's said in this room that's private, or else."

"Or else what?" Mark asked.

"Or else we'll never talk about these things again, about men and women and sex."

The boys shook their heads in agreement. They definitely wanted Polly to tell them about sex. They had a lot of questions they didn't have answers to.

Billy looked down, guiltily, and said quietly, "Miss Polly, I'm sorry, I lied. She let me touch her breasts." Then Billy said, almost in a whisper, "She let me touch between her legs too."

The boys looked, jealously, at Billy. Susie was the prettiest girl they knew, and they'd all played with themselves while fantasizing about her cute adolescent breasts that she shyly and proudly displayed beneath her clothing.

"What happened?" Jerry asked.

"It hurt. She said it hurt when I touched her, down there."

"That can happen," Polly said. "Some places on a girl are very sensitive and have to be touched very gently and on some girls not at all."

"Where is that?" Sam asked.

"It's called the clitoris. It's near the top of the vulva."

"Which part is the vulva?" Mike asked.

"How do you know where to put it in?" Jerry interrupted. "I mean it seems like just a slit. Can you put it in anywhere?"

Polly realized this was more complicated than she imagined. "Come to Sunday school next week, and I'll bring in some photos, and we can talk about them," she said.

Every head nodded yes. Polly knew there would be one hundred percent attendance.

The next Sunday there was a group of children being confirmed, and after church everyone went to a hotel across the street for a reception, everyone except for Polly and her boys who said they had a lesson from the previous week to finish and would be by in a little while.

In the classroom Polly had to apologize. She had been so busy with her new college term that she neglected her promise until the last minute, and then she could only find drawings, not photographs, which disappointed the boys greatly. They had seen drawings, in health class, and though drawings were interesting it was not what they hoped for or what Polly promised. Many of them had seen photographs on the Internet too, but parental controls frustrated them, and they all had more questions than answers.

Polly felt bad for breaking her promise and letting the boys down. She thought of an option, and though she had reservations, it was the best way to teach the subject. "I'll tell you what," she said. "If you swear on the bible not to tell anyone, and I'm really serious about this, I'll let you look at me."

Six jaws dropped, and a flood of hormones coursed through the young men. "You've got to not tell anyone," Polly said. "If you tell, I'll get in a ton of trouble. I could even go to jail."

"We won't tell," Jerry said. Each of the boys nodded in agreement.

Polly did make them swear on a bible. Then she said, "Come with me."

Polly worked at the church, and she had keys to all its rooms. She took the boys to a locked room at the end of a hallway downstairs. She and the boys went in, and Polly locked the door behind them. She pulled forward a deacon's bench with a comfortable wooden back, and she had the boys pull chairs in front of it and sit. Every young penis rose to attention, and Polly noticed them being adjusted in anticipation of a show each boy would remember for the rest of his life, for Susie wasn't the only object of their fantasies. Polly was too, and she wasn't a girl. She was a young woman with a woman's breasts, and she was much less careful than Susie about keeping her shirt from being looked into. Every boy knew Polly's bras by heart.

Polly was excited too. She was getting ready to expose herself—all her intimate glory—and treat six boys, who had never seen the sexual organs of a real woman, to a view they lusted for more than anything else in the world. It's a good thing I'm not having my period, she thought. That would really be a lesson on women. I should have brought those pictures. Oh well, lucky boys."

Polly was going to the party after the lesson, and she wore a lightweight flirty dress. Usually Poly didn't wear panties to church. It was naughty and arousing, and yet it gave her spiritual feelings—she felt that being naked opened her to The Lord. Today, however, she expected to dance and twirl and tease the men and boys by showing under her dress, and not wearing panties was too dangerous.

The boys sat, and Polly stood and lifted her dress, exposing her legs. She reached beneath it and took hold of her panties, slid them down her legs, and stepped out of them. Then she sat on the deacon's bench. Here goes, she thought. She put her feet on the seat and her dress fell down her thighs. She pushed it from under her butt and pulled it to her waist, and she spread her legs.

Polly was embarrassed—she was so utterly exposed, but she was excited too. There was a tingling between her legs, and she started getting wet, but, being the good teacher she was, she let the boys take their time studying her, and then she began pointing out and naming her features: her outer labia and how they blushed when she was aroused, the pink petals of her inner labia, the entrance of her vagina, and her clitoris and its firm shaft hidden beneath its hood. "I call this my 'little red riding hood, '" she giggled.

"The opening of a vagina is very sensitive," Polly said. Girls like to be touched there, but you must have clean hands first. Go wash your hands, and I'll let you touch me.

The boys fought and pushed to be first at the sink until Polly warned them to behave. They washed carefully, but hurriedly, and Polly let them take turns fingering her vagina, exploring as far into it as they dared. Polly squirmed under their touch. The boys loved that. It was, after all, the point of exercise. Polly wanted them to know how to do it right.

Then Polly taught them how to slide her little red riding hood up and down the flesh beneath it. That really got her squirming, and Polly had a hard time keeping herself from thrusting lewdly. It was also difficult to control the boy's enthusiasm—they didn't want to stop.

Polly pulled back the flesh of her hood and pushed her clitoris clearly into view. "This little dot is the most sensitive spot on a woman. It might be where Billy touched Susie. On me, if you touch it gently, it feels wonderful, but on some girls it hurts. I would guess that most of you boys have learned how to masturbate by now. Well, you know how, sometimes, your penis is so sensitive you can't bear to touch it? For some girls that's how their clitoris is all the time. So you shouldn't touch it unless you ask permission, and then be so gentle that your girlfriend can hardly feel your finger on her. Believe me, that's all it takes.

"Each of you boys can take a turn touching my clitoris, but you must be the most gentle you can be."

Billy and Jerry and then Mark touched Polly, gently, where she showed them. She pulled away, involuntarily, each time. Milky fluid began to pool at the entrance to her vagina. "Thank you boys," she gasped, "that feels wonderful."

Sam was last, and in his excitement he forgot his manners and poked Polly's clit quite hard with his fingernail. She screeched and jumped, and then he did it again. "Go out of the room," Polly said, angrily. "You're rude and didn't do what I told you."

Sam was crestfallen. He hadn't intended to hurt Polly. He had just gotten carried away. He didn't want to leave, but Polly made him. "Wait outside until we're through," she said.

Politeness was also a part of Polly's lesson. She made each boy thank her and in return she said, "You're welcome." She also reminded each boy that what they had done was a private matter, and she told them she would see them at the party. They left, and she brought Sam back into the room.

"I'm sorry," Miss Polly, Sam said, even before Polly asked him to apologize. "I really didn't mean to hurt you, really."

Sam was almost crying, and Polly could see that he was sincere. He felt bad about what he had done through carelessness. He really liked Polly, and he was sorry for hurting her. He was especially sorry for hurting her feelings.

"It's okay, Sam." Polly said. I know it was an accident. Many men are rough with women. They think it makes women like them, but it doesn't. I thought you were acting like that, but now I see you didn't mean to hurt me. Thank you for apologizing. That makes me feel good, and I'm sorry for thinking badly of you."

"Miss Polly?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Would you mind... could you show me the rest of what you showed the other boys? Please?"

Polly let Sam touch her clitoris and examine between her legs again, and then she lowered her top and taught Sam how she liked her breasts and nipples to be stimulated. Sam loved how each nipple became firm as he ran his fingers over them.

Polly dressed and got ready to leave the basement of the church. She could see Sam holding his balls, with a pained expression. "Do they hurt?" she asked.

Sam shook his head yes.

"Take your pants down and let me look," Polly said.

Sam sat and Polly kneeled in front of him and helped him lower his pants and underwear. Polly knew that penises continued to grow throughout puberty, and she saw that Sam's was still that a boy. It was thin but hard and proud. "That's a very nice penis," she said. "Would you like me to put it in my mouth? It will make it feel good."

Sam was speechless, but he had enough wits to shake his head yes.

Polly put Sam's penis in her mouth and swirled saliva all over it, wetting it thoroughly. Then she made a seal with her lips and sucked in, molding her mouth tightly around Sam, and she began nodding her head, sliding his penis in and out of her.

Polly loved giving a blow job. It was one of her favorite things. It's a wonderful gift, she thought. When a man is in my mouth we both know he's not going anywhere, and we're both aware how vulnerable he is. He's got to wonder if, maybe, I'm not totally trustworthy, or if, maybe, I'm a little crazed or a little angry at him. I could do him terrible damage. He has to take a huge chance to let me at him, and, then, instead of biting him to hell I suck him to heaven. Her thoughts on blow jobs were complex, but there was no denying she was good at them, though she had never before given one to a man as young as Sam.

Sam didn't hold Polly's head and work it the way older men did, but Polly cupped his balls in one hand and held the base of his penis in her other, and alternately pulling the skin of his penis tight as she pushed it into her and letting his skin loosen as she slipped his penis out she got him started.

It wasn't long before Sam lost his shyness and let nature take its course. Letting him guide his own pleasure Polly followed the rhythm of his thrusting, and it didn't take long before he gasped and spurted in her mouth.

Polly pursed her lips and held him tightly with tongue, cheeks, and palate as she swallowed and let him finish. Then she wiped her lips and smiled. "That felt good, didn't it?" she asked.

Sam was in awe as he pulled up his underwear and pants. "Mmm hmm!" he said, with a shit-eating grin as big as a slice of watermelon, and he didn't need to be reminded to say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Polly said, as she straightened her dress and put on her panties.

Polly was a young woman with a positive self image. She thought of herself as good looking though not classically beautiful. She once said, "Most people say I have a 'girl next door' look, which I take as a compliment, and which, I think, most men find sexy. I don't stand out in a crowd, but I am not shy about my looks either. Mostly, what makes a girl sexy is her attitude. If you feel confident and take some initiative men enjoy that as much as if you're a cover girl."

Polly was especially nice in being willing to talk to the older men of the church, who other girls ignored. She knew she gave older men a thrill, and she was happy to do so. Mostly she did it because she was kind, but, also, some of the older man seemed to appreciate her in ways younger men had not yet learned. She found these older men interesting, but she was not sure she understood them. She knew that sex had something to do with it—sex, its compelling feelings, and loss; but she wondered if there was more.