A Reluctant Sex Instructor Ch. 07

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reading the previous chapters is mandatory to understand the setting and characters.

SUMMARY: A shy and socially awkward virgin's journey to becoming a sex instructor on campus. The reason why girls wanted to have sex with him was weird. It wasn't because he was hot or had a big cock. It all began with a random request from his high school crush...

All characters are eighteen and above.

Note to reader: I've previously mentioned "La Pute" in Chapter 3. But I've decided to retcon (retrospectively revised) to reintroduce La Pute again in this chapter since I've not talked about it since. If you can't remember what La Pute is, it's all good. I'll explain it in this chapter.

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Chapter 7: The Taco Affair

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I watched Ezra take a wad of tissue and wipe it between her thighs, causing a thrill to rise in me, knowing the naked Ezra was wiping my leaking cum out of her because I had come inside her three times.

To think that my day was not over yet! A foursome and anal sex with my three favorite girls were planned for later in the day.

Then I was abruptly slapped by guilt and anxiety. I had forgotten about the number one cardinal rule of having sex: always make sure the girl is protected.

My high school had one of the highest teenage pregnancy rates in the country. There were at least two or three girls who got pregnant every year. It was so common that it wasn't considered a scandal when a student got pregnant. It was a culture that accepted that the students were having sex often. Accidents like getting pregnant and STDs happened. Those who got pregnant were not slut-shamed or bullied.

On the contrary, they were pitied, consoled, and supported. Instead, the boys who were responsible were criticized and blamed for not using protection. After one such pregnancy was reported, Lisa and Denise randomly turned to me when we were sitting in the cafeteria and said, "Always make sure the girl is protected before you stick your dick inside." It was a lesson I always tried to remember even though I wasn't having sex in high school.

My high school was right smack between two diametrically opposed areas. On one side, where Denise and Tony had lived, were the ultra-liberal and feminist-loving residents, largely thanks to Mrs. Kelton's efforts. It was the zip code of upper-class, affluent families.

On the other side, where Lisa and I had lived, was where the right-wing conservative middle class stayed. It was where anyone caught engaging in premarital sex should be burned at the stake if executions were legal. I once asked Mrs. Kelton why she chose to live on our side of town. Her reply was there was no point in converting people who were already converted. Needless to say, the Kelton family was not popular in our conservative area.

Unfortunately for my parents, with the wealthy progressive controlling the school board, their liberal policies governed the school. Conservative parents like mine condemned the lack of a strict dress code. Short skirts, plunging necklines, and transparent fabrics were the norm. Lots of bare skin was showing everywhere. Kissing, petting, and PDA were commonly seen.

Whenever unhappy parents complained about the students' dressings and behaviors, liberal parents like Mrs. Kelton would argue that instituting and enforcing a strict dress code would violate the students' constitutional right to freedom of expression. Rather than enforcing PDA rules and/or a dress code, Mrs. Kelton championed easier access to birth control and better sex education.

However, the school board eventually compromised when a debacle made the front page news. It all started when a group of girls decided to challenge each other to see who could wear the most provocative and risque attire. For some time, walking around the school was like walking into the initial scene of a porn video titled "High School Sex Party." See-through tube tops so sheer that they might as well not be wearing them, bright-colored thongs that sat high on their hips and above their mini-shorts or skirts for all to see, mini-skirts so short that the teachers could see what they were wearing underneath. The final straw that broke the camel's proverbial back came when girls started wearing unbuttoned shirts with their bras exposed for all to see.

Teenage boys loved the free show, but the teachers complained that it had reached the point where it was impossible to look at the female students without being liable for sexual harassment, but what eventually got the school to instill some sort of dress code was when it was impossible for teachers to teach properly.

The Conservatives argued that when the teachers couldn't be effective in their jobs, they were robbing students of the right to education. Denise told me her father said that, technically, the Constitution only requires that all kids be given equal educational opportunity no matter their race, ethnic background, religion, or sex, or whether they are rich or poor, citizen or non-citizen. So the Constitution was not violated in this case, though an argument could be made about public indecency. Liberals being liberals, however, decided that the teachers had a point. If the teachers couldn't teach properly, the students were not learning. So the school board instituted a vague dress code that students' dressing must not "violate public decency" without specifying exactly what was considered a violation. By then, the group of girls who started the challenge was also getting bored of it, so they decided to drop the whole thing.

My parents would have moved away long ago if not for my father's job as an urban planning engineer. My father's moral code and a strong sense of professional responsibility meant he disliked abandoning projects, even if they took decades to complete.

They had wanted me to transfer to a more conservative high school that was in line with their beliefs, but gradually, they became more accepting as they witnessed the progress in my social development. Finally, I had friends for the first time in my life, even though my friends were not considered ideal.

My parents both loved and hated that I was friends with Lisa. They loved that Lisa had helped me grow socially but hated everything Mrs. Kelton stood for. However, like most adults, they loved Tony. Tony could schmooze any parent as quickly as he could charm girls' panties off.

When I first started attending high school, my parents were worried that I didn't have friends. No, Lisa didn't count. No, the Keltons were a bad influence. No, Lisa was not considered a good friend, but Lisa took these in her strides. Her family was used to it. Eventually, Lisa won them over when they found out how Lisa and Tony got together and how much Lisa was helping me to be more sociable.

After hearing their incessant nagging, I began telling them all about Tony. I wasn't the kind that talked to my parents about my friends, and they didn't ask about it because they thought I didn't have any. So when I started telling them about Tony when I was a junior, they didn't believe I had a popular friend like Tony -- a person who was everything I wasn't. A person who they wished I was. So they insisted on inviting Tony over for Sunday tea. My parents enjoyed hosting guests on Sunday after church, with my mother baking her delicious apple pies. I grudgingly agreed just to show them I didn't have an imaginary friend named Tony. It was easier for me for my parents to believe I had an imaginary friend named Tony.

I was nervous the first time I invited Tony over. My house was like a shack in the woods compared to Tony's mansion, but Tony paid no mind to that. By the end of the first meeting with my parents, Tony had somehow convinced them he would rather stay in our shack than his mansion. He praised my parents and our home often. His praises might sound like nothing more than flattery, but they were specific and sincere enough to be believable.

"Ken never mentions how lovely your house feels. Where did you buy that lamp? It makes the living room feel so homey."

"How did you grow these orchids? My mother could never keep plants alive to save her life."

"Too bad I have dinner at home. The food smells amazing! Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"What salon did you use? I love how your hairstyle frames your face and accentuates your lips. My mother always complains that her stylist always has the talent of making her face look puffy."

"Ken told me you played tennis in college. My parents tried to force me to learn tennis when I was eight. Eventually, they gave up after I couldn't master the backhand technique."

(The last one was a lie, of course. Tony excelled in every sport.)

Fifteen-year-old Tony wasn't as smooth as he was now, though he made up for it with genuine enthusiasm. The trick to giving great compliments, I observed from Tony, was to show interest by asking deeper follow-up questions. Instead of simply saying, "This apple pie is delicious," Tony would go one step further and ask, "What's your secret?"

The conversation flowed easily, with Tony setting the pace and topic effortlessly. My parents had prepared a list of questions they wanted to ask Tony to ensure he wasn't a bad influence on me, but they ended up spending most of the time answering Tony's curious questions.

That day, I also learned things about my parents that I never knew before. For instance, I knew my mother loved gardening from the number of plants we had inside and outside the house. Still, I didn't think she was proud of her gardening knowledge. Tony spent more than thirty minutes just discussing orchids with her. I learned then that orchids were among the most challenging plants to grow. Orchids were susceptible to root rot, which happened easily when the soil was too moist. My mother eventually shared her secret through repeated coaxing: adding three ice cubes once a week was enough.

People would describe my parents as courteous, amicable, and humble. The last trait was something they wore silently like a badge of honor. To ensure my father wasn't neglected, Tony also spent enough time asking him about urban planning.

While they were not the talkative type, they were effective conversationalists. They knew how to be engaging in conversation, a skill they struggled to teach me as I was growing up. They seldom talked about what they were good at or were interested in because talking about themselves was considered rude. Urban planning was a topic my father had a great interest in but seldom talked about because he thought most people would find it boring. But not Tony. Tony listened to my father's lecture and asked insightful questions like a teacher's pet.

When I told Tony he had charmed my judgmental parents with flying colors the next day, he merely shrugged. Easy peasy, he said. His parents were "influential members of society," he grimaced, adding the air quotes. Growing up, he spent most weeknights attending social functions. Even at a young age, he learned how to talk to adults, read social cues and appear interested enough to impress others. It was expected of him and his siblings.

The thing about Tony was he was always likable enough, even though he seldom cared what others thought of him. Yet, he seemed to have made an extra effort to get my parents to like him as though they were his prospective parents-in-law. I was touched when I realized he did all this for my benefit.

When I jokingly asked Tony how he managed to come up on the spot with such nice things to say, he replied that he was just being truthful. "If you pay attention, you can always find nice things to say about others without having to lie."

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I continued to stare between her legs as Ezra switched the dry tissue with wet wipes. Ezra tilted her head toward me and caught me looking. "Were you hoping to watch your cum leaking out of me?" She grinned. "Denise hadn't mentioned you had that kink."

"Erm... actually... I..."

Ezra's face turned into a half-frown. "What's wrong?"

"Um, you're on birth control, right?" I asked meekly.

Ezra's expression suddenly turned serious. "You know, you should've asked before shooting inside me. No matter how wet the girl is for you, it's always best practice to check."

Her suddenly stern voice took me by surprise and sent my anxiety racing. I blurted out quickly, "Sorry, I—"

"I was just teasing you, Ken," Ezra chuckled with a teasing smile. "My mother put us on pills when we started high school."

"Mrs. Kelton was fine with you three having sex in high school?" I asked though I knew it was a somewhat moot question.

"You know, my mother is always complaining that you calling her Mrs. Kelton makes her sound old," Ezra grinned. Despite Mrs. Kelton's repeated attempts to get me to call her "Ana," I never got used to that, thanks to my parents. My parents always preached that children should address their elders with proper respect. However, even if they weren't strict about that, they wouldn't allow me to call Mrs. Kelton by her first name. To them, Mrs. Kelton was the personification of evil. They frequently complained about, "Mrs. Kelton this, Mrs. Kelton that," as if not using her first name was a deliberate effort not to humanize her. So to me, Lisa's mother was always "Mrs. Kelton."

"To answer your question," Ezra said, "as a sexual libertine, she's a strong advocate of sexual experimentation and exploration, as long as consent, communication, and comfort are emphasized. She made it a point to make sure we were well-educated and protected. Yet, even if we were not having sex, pills are useful for preventing or limiting menstruation. No more messy periods."

I wondered how Mrs. Kelton handled "the talk" with her daughters. My parents never had it with me because premarital sex was forbidden. Even if it wasn't, they probably didn't expect me to be having sex. They would probably be satisfied to know I could talk to girls without flinching. This also made me realize how far I had improved just from just a few months ago.

When I asked Ezra how Mrs. Kelton had educated them on sex, she said, "It started with the basics like reproduction and sex, the kind of stuff in sex ed. Then on to communication, consent, progress only when you feel comfortable, learn to say 'no,' and avoid putting yourself in risky situations. Once we reached the age where we started becoming curious about sex, she would teach us the actual mechanics of it. That way, we would know what we were doing once we start becoming sexually active."

"How did she teach the mechanics of sex?" I asked, fascinated.

"She would show us different kinds of porn to illustrate what makes good sex and what's not. She also bought us sex toys like vibrators and dildos to use," Ezra explained. Then she chuckled and said, "I still vividly remember her asking me to practice putting on a condom until I could do it easily."

I laughed. I could definitely picture Ezra's mother doing that in my mind. Showing her daughters pornography might have invited attention from social services. Still, I guessed if teenagers were already exposed to porn, teaching them how porn differed from reality might be useful.

"Don't you think introducing sex to children at a young age might actually encourage them to have it?" I asked.

"Well, the thing about growing up with my mother is we were exposed to conversations about sex even at a young age. It was a frequent mealtime topic, but to answer your question, my parents only explore the topic of sex individually with us at the pace we're comfortable with, only when we start becoming curious about it. By sex, I also mean other aspects like intimacy, relationship, willingness to talk openly with a partner, etcetera. All else being equal, I think it's always better to keep people informed, educated, and prepared than fumbling around in ignorance. It was also nice to know that I could always approach my parents whenever I want to talk about it."

I could never imagine having a conversation about sex with my parents, even after I turned eighteen. With sex being such a big part of our lives, it made sense for their mother to ensure her daughters were well prepared. Hearing Ezra explain also made me understand her motivation to teach and help others regarding sex and intimacy.

Sigh. I frequently wondered how I would turn out if I had Mrs. Kelton as a mother. Mrs. Kelton always treated me lovingly and kindly, even when she knew my mother hated her. At times, it seemed like Mrs. Kelton even treated me more like a real mother would, always making a point to hug me whenever she saw me and ask me about my day. Whenever I flinched from her hugs and Lisa complained about it, Mrs. Kelton would respond, "Ken just needs more practice."

After Ezra had finished cleaning herself, she turned and pulled me in for another kiss. I was slightly surprised by her enthusiastic kiss after cooling down from sex. It was the kind of kiss that both told me she had enjoyed being intimate with me and also wanted more. A kiss that was full of promises. I felt appreciated and desired.

"Hmmm," she pulled back with a smile. "Shall we head out?"

"I don't think the girls are awake yet," I replied. I was reasonably sure Lisa and Denise would enter my room if they knew I was having sex with Ezra. Right now, I would be content to spend more time alone with her in bed. Sexually, emotionally and intellectually, she fascinated me so much. I couldn't get enough of her. I placed my hand on her naked butt, squeezed it, and pulled her in to kiss again, communicating my feelings with my mouth.

Ezra opened her mouth to accept my kiss for a few moments before she broke away again and grinned. "We can continue more after lunch," she said with a chuckle, "and besides, I need to prepare for later."

"Prepare for what?" I asked.

"The butt stuff." She smiled.

"Oh," I replied, giving her butt another squeeze. "Erm, are there a lot of things to prepare?"

"Usually not a lot, besides making sure the butt is clean, but Lisa has a surprise planned for you."

"What's that?" I asked. I hated surprises. They always left me feeling anxious rather than excited.

"The purpose of the surprise is not for you to know in advance," Ezra said in a teacher-like voice. "But don't worry, I'm sure you will like it." She placed her palm on my chest to reassure me.

Then she surprised me again by pushing my body flat against the bed and rolling her naked self on top of me. I was starting to get excited for a moment, but she rolled again to the opposite side, lifted herself off the bed, and stood up.

She raised her hand, palm opened, and gestured for me to get up as well. I was disappointed by her maneuver but gave a chuckle at her cheekiness.

I accepted her hand and got up. Holding hands, she led me toward the door. Even after coming three times, I kept glancing down between her legs as I followed her from behind.

Just before she grabbed the doorknob, I suddenly had a realization, and I held her back.

"What's wrong?" Ezra turned to me and asked.

"Uh, we're still naked. My boxers are in the living room."

Ezra chuckled. "I left my panties there, too. Shall we walk out naked together?"

I managed to withhold my knee-jerk reaction of immediately saying no, and paused. Usually, I'd shudder at the thought of walking out of my room fully naked with my cock exposed. Exhibitionism was at the bottom of my kink list. Or maybe I was just scared.

But as I looked at Ezra' wearing nothing but a small smile, the thought of walking out hand-in-hand naked with her was... the erotic excitement was overriding my trepidation.

"I'm sure everyone here has already seen you naked many times now," Ezra added. "Assuming they are already out of their rooms."

Unlike Lisa or Denise, I liked how Ezra had merely given me a soft nudge rather than insisting. Combined with my renewed horniness, I became more open to the idea.