The Sexual Education Blues - Cover

The Sexual Education Blues

Copyright© 2007 by Lubrican

Chapter 31: The Last Day

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 31: The Last Day - What would happen if a bunch of ordinary, every-day sexual education teachers ended up at the wrong seminar, where, instead of learning tips on how to teach sex ed, they were taught how to have a more meaningful sexual relationship? What if all of them were between relationships, or in failing ones? How would they react? They might react just like the teenagers they're supposed to be teaching.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Group Sex   First   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Pregnancy   Slow  

Oddly, depending on how you look at it, there was less sex between the couples on their last day together, than there had been on preceding days. Bob would have explained that emotional closeness, and the closeness of sharing sex, are not the same thing, though they draw on each other. Emotional closeness... the human connection between two souls... is infinitely more precious than mere sexual satisfaction. That, perhaps, is why the couples spent more time talking softly, making and remaking plans, making promises, and trying to order the future, before it got there. They wanted to keep the dream alive, and all those preparations, even though everyone should have known things rarely work out as originally planned, made them feel like they were nailing down the future, and the dream with it.

There was, of course, the last minute, frenzied coupling of men and women who needed each other physically, as well as emotionally, but that didn't take long, what with passions as inflamed as they were.

Then, inevitably, there was the pain of leave taking. Couples wanted separate cabs, instead of all being on a shuttle bus, so they could spend as long as possible in each other's company, in private, before they were torn apart by the bureaucracy of the airline, and differing end points.

Crystal, Tiffany and Roberta bawled like babies, in the cab. Jane spent the time kissing Roger, until the cabby made a joke about how, in Arizona, having sex in the back of a cab was illegal. They ignored him.


At the airport, leave-takings of a different sort were engaged in, as new friends felt the sadness and loss of leaving those new friends. Phone numbers were exchanged, and verified, and promises of calls to be made, and pictures to be sent, were made.

They couldn't sit together as couples, though they tried. Some of the other passengers weren't cooperative, or were already sitting by other traveling partners. For once, Roger cursed the fact that he was in first class, while Jane was in the back. They'd tried to upgrade her seat, but first class was full.

Crystal found her seat, and levered herself in, by the window. She and Woody had been split up when they boarded, with Woody going down the right aisle, while she was directed to the left one. She hadn't thought to talk about seats, because she had watched Roger and Jane go through their disappointing exercise, along with Tiffany and Chuck, who also couldn't get seats together.

As she sat, glancing out the window, she figured that, later, when the plane was in the air, she'd go find Woody, exclaim loudly about seeing her long lost friend, after "all these years" and beg whoever was sitting beside him to let her catch up on old times. She pulled her book out of her bag. She hadn't gotten a single page read while she was in Arizona. Meeting Woody turned out to have kept her from reading the book at all. She sighed, opened it up, and got ready to get at least a page read.

"Eleven-D" she heard the flight attendant say. "Here we are. The aisle seat, there, is eleven-D. You were just on the wrong side of the plane, that's all. Have a nice flight."

Crystal was sitting in eleven-E. Her seatmate was here. Oh boy. She didn't look up. She heard the overhead compartment door slam shut, and a shadow fell over her book. She tilted it to let the light from the window illuminate it better.

"Hi," came a man's voice.

Crystal's eyes snapped to her left, and up, to see Woody's face leering down at her.

"My goodness, but you're a tall one," he said, attempting to look down her blouse. "How's the air up there?" He grinned. "Are those hot air balloons under your blouse, or are you actually that tall?"

A woman in front of them turned, and peered between the seats, frowning. She obviously disapproved of Woody making fun of a tall woman.

"My name's Woody," he said, sticking his hand out. "And you must be one of those female professional basketball players. Or are you just a groupie for the Harlem Glob Trotters?" He laughed, a braying and very annoying laugh.

"Woody, is it?" asked Crystal sweetly.

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