Educating Nathan

"Mrs. Peters, I appreciate the advice but I really ought to go. This isn't right."

The only look she sees on his face now is confusion. She goes to him and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Honey, if that's what you want to do, that's what you should do, just like I was saying. But let me tell you straight out, I'm enjoying this. I think you'll enjoy this. Don't worry about Mr. Peters, he's my problem. As for Ryan, I hope some nice experienced woman will take him under her wing but I'm afraid he's become too much of a prima donna these days. If you want to stay, I'd like that very much. But if you feel like it would be better if you left, I understand. You want me to leave you alone for a few minutes?"

"No, ma'am. Don't you feel like this is wrong? I mean, you're married and everything."

"That I am and make no mistake, sugar; I love my husband. Love and sex overlap but they aren't the same thing and not understanding that, or having conflicting views on that can cause an endless amount of grief. All I'll say at this point is that Ray and I have compatible views. I'm not one to believe sex is wrong, in and of itself. Context, honey, context is everything. I've been dreaming about your sexy young body for months and at this point there's no point I can see in denying it. There's no point in denying I invited you over with the intention of seducing you, if I could. It turns out, I have something to offer you in return, other than something that feels good; I can help you get past all that nervousness. I can help you become the kind of man any young woman at that university would be lucky to have as a lover. Hell, honey, I'm practically doin' a service for womankind." She smiles at him. "How's that for rationalizing?"

"What did you have in mind?" Curiosity and lust make a reappearance in his eyes and voice.

"This morning? To get you in bed and between my legs, to be painfully blunt about it. That's still my hope but much more slowly, step by step, just like what may happen to you in a few weeks or a few months. I want to be your first. To be honest, I assumed you'd have had other girls by now and not be interested in me. And I was only half kidding about this being a service to womankind. If I can help you be a better lover for some excited but nervous young lady, well that would be a wonderful accomplishment."

"You want to have sex with me?"

"Yeah, sugar," I laugh. "I want to have sex with you, ain't it obvious?" She looks at him, no longer smiling. "Sugar, I want to fuck you, that's what I want plain and simple. And I want you to fuck me."

I could see the struggle on his face. I wasn't sure which direction he'd break.

"But why?"

"Why? Uh, honey, you sell yourself too short. I wanted to get you into my bed because you're a gorgeous, sexy, young man that I'd quite dearly love to fuck. That's lust and desire. All that's still there. Under that, even more so over the last few minutes, is my love for your basic decency. I want to fuck you but I want to teach you, too. I'm not really worried you'll ever hurt someone but wouldn't it be extra special, especially if the girl you're with turns out to be the 'one', if a bit of the jitters and fumbles and false starts have already been taken care of?" I shrug. "Like I said, a win-win. Plus, sugar, you have no idea how good this can feel. You may think you do but trust me, you're wrong."

"May I kiss you?"

She opens her arms.

***

They end up back on the sofa, only this time it's more as if he's lying on top of her than sitting beside her. He resumes kissing her where they'd left off. He's a quick learner. He kisses down the side of her neck, his right hand on her left hip. He brushes his fingers over her side, moving them higher and higher. Marta gives him high marks for initiative when he rests his hand on top of her breast.

"Uh, I'm not sure we should do this?" She whispers, eyes on her lap, as she pulls away from him.

"You changed your mind?" His confusion is evident.

"I haven't but the young lady might, hon," she explains. "Me, I want to rip your clothes off and climb on top of you but I'm trying to remember what it's like to be eighteen and excited and scared, all at the same time."

"Oh, sure, right." He rolls to lean against the back of the couch. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to stop?"

"I don't know. It feels, uh, nice, I mean, amazing but...but I've never done this, I mean I've done this, made out, but not this far, before." She does her best to reconnect with her younger self, the one that had been in this situation many years ago, the younger self that wished she'd been with someone as decent as Nathan. The reconnection is almost too good. She has to pause to tell herself, for the millionth time, that she'd done nothing wrong. She tells herself that she wasn't to blame for any of it. None of that was your fault Marta, not one goddamn single bit of it. You hear me? It's her momma's voice and her momma's words. She hears her, pushes aside the past, and allows herself to enjoy the present.

"May I?" He asks, still leaning against the back of the couch. He's holding his hand out. I nod. He rests his hand atop her breast again. "Is that okay?" he asks softly. She nods. "May I kiss you some more?" She nods. His kisses are gentler now, slower. Good, Nathan, don't scare her, she compliments him silently. His hand squeezes her breast, gently. Before Marta can react, he pulls back and gazes at her face. "Am I hurting you? Is this okay?" She nods. "Your breast feels so amazing; it's not like what I expected."

"You're not hurting me," she whispers. She allows herself to enjoy the feel of his hand on her breast for a few moments. "Nathan, at this point you could move your hand, slip it under her shirt but don't go grabbing straight for her breast. Let your hand rest on her tummy, just rest." He does as she suggests. "Mmm, would you kiss me again?" He shifts and his tongue caresses her lips then begins to dance with her own. Without prompting, his fingers stroke the soft skin of her belly. A soft moan fills his mouth. Marta is no longer teaching; she's enjoying. His hand moves higher and soon the backs of his fingers are brushing against the underside of her bra.

"Are you okay?" he whispers against her cheek. "Mmm hmm," is the murmured reply. "May I touch you again?" She nods then opens her eyes. "Nathan, at this point you might say to the young lady, something like, 'Is it okay if I touch you and stuff, without asking and you tell me if you don't want me to do something. Would that be okay?' If she's agreeable, it makes things a little smoother but it's never a bad idea to ask. And you have to trust that the young lady will be honest with you." He listens carefully and gives a single nod. There's still a bra between them but his hand feels hot on her breast. His fingertips discover her nipple, a hard, hot pebble that aches with desire. She sighs into his hair and clutches at him. His fingers brush over the skin of her cleavage, just the fingertips, dancing, flitting over the damp skin, setting her brain on fire. They trail along the top of her bra cup. Then, the fingertips dip beneath the edge. Her back arches, pressing her breast into his hand.

"Put your arm around me," she whispers into his ear. He slips an arm behind her, underneath her shirt. He strokes her back, kisses the side of her neck, and continues to work his fingers under the top of her bra. His fingers are grazing the edge of her areola by the time the fingers of his left hand reach her bra strap. He's pressing his erection against the top of her leg. She doesn't mind in the least. Her breasts are not large, which means the clasp consists of only two hooks not a veritable armada of fasteners. "Hold it between your fingers and squeeze it together. With a little practice you can..." she grows quiet when the clasp of her bra pops open. The kid is a prodigy, some sort of bra opening wunderkind, Marta muses to herself, as her bra loosens and the palm of his right hand covers her nipple.

"Oh, baby, that feels so nice," she purrs. Reaching between their bodies, she puts a hand over the bulge in his jeans and squeezes. His body stiffens. His lips leave the side of her neck. The bulge expands beneath her fingers, then twitches several times. The front of his jeans darken as he moans and jerks.

"Oh, shit, I'm such...what a fuckin' spaz...Jesus, I'm sorry." He pants, though his body is still jerking.

"Shh, honey. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I've been stokin' your fire all morning. I was expecting something like that and let me tell you, it'll make the rest even better. You're a young man; you'll be ready again in ten minutes, fifteen at the most." She scoots from underneath him and stands. "I think this part of the lesson is over. You're a natural. Just be kind and patient like you've been and you won't have a problem in the world. If you're not sure, stop, talk." She moves away from the couch. "Stand up, Nathan."

He does as she asks, hands moving to cover the enormous wet spot on the front of his jeans. It looks like he's wet his pants; that's how large the spot is. She runs her hands over the soft skin of his chest, feeling him relax. She lowers her head and plays with his nipple with her lips.

"Jesus, what are you doing?" he gasps.

"Nipples are nipples, baby. Trust me." A few kisses and tugs and flicks and his hands are on her shoulders and in her hair. She kneels, reaching for the top of his jeans. He tenses. She kisses his belly button, then the tuft of hair curling above the top of his shorts, the tuft that has been teasing her for the last half an hour or so. As she does, she pulls his shorts and underwear down together. They catch for a moment on his still hard cock. She tugs a little harder. Freed, his cock stares at her.

Sweet Jesus, the boy is hung, she sighs to herself. Is he going to stay hard? Not even get a little soft? She wonders. Being thin makes his dick look bigger but even so, damn what a nice dick, she thinks, as she slips off his tennis shoes and then helps him step out of his shorts and underwear. More because she's horny as fuck than to startle or tease him, she puts the front of his underwear in her mouth and sucks. He groans at the sight. She leans forward and gobbles his slick, shiny cock into her mouth. She knows that this will not suffice, will not slake her thirst. She needs more from him, a lot more. She sucks and licks him clean, as he stands shivering and groaning. She climbs to her feet, pulling her shirt off and letting it and her bra fall to the floor. She yanks her shorts off. She lets him look at her body, then takes his hand and leads him toward the stairs.

"What happened to your limp, Mrs. Peters?" He has a giant smile on his face.

"You hush, Nathan. No one likes a smart ass." She kisses him, a quick kiss of deep affection before they resume their journey toward the stairs.

I smile, tea mug resting on my chest. He was so pretty with his long light brown hair and bright green eyes. The blackness of his pubic hair and armpit hair was startling, considering how light the hair on top of his head was. I suppose that's because the hair under his arms and between his legs didn't get much sunlight. His torso was smooth, other than a fine hair or two around his nipples. And his cock, well, sweet Jesus. It was simply beautiful, long, full, uncut, crown perfectly proportioned to match the rest of him. My oh my. The ache between my legs makes me smile. My old pussy is even getting a bit wet, if I'm not greatly mistaken. I sip my tea. The stairs still had the original newel post and balusters, the railing worn smooth by years of trailing hands. How many of those hands, I had often wondered, had been on the way to the bedroom to find comfort and joy in each other's body. Many, I'd always hope. Still do. The sun is almost up. The gulls are squawking and fussing at one another but I barely notice, lost in memory...

Nathan watches, not moving as Marta folds back the sheets of the bed. When she looks back, his face is again awash in confusion.

"What's the matter, sugar?"

"It doesn't seem right, Mrs. Peters. Mr..." he stammers.

"Hon, I think it's okay if you call me Marta." She interrupts him, hoping to re-direct him.

"No, ma'am," he tells her, shaking his head causing that beautiful hair to brush over his shoulders. Damn. "Mom would know something was up if I started calling you that." He stands just inside the door. She tries not to stare at his magnificent cock. It's still shiny and half-hard. The foreskin has slipped over the head and from the crinkled hood, a shimmering strand hangs. "Mr. Peters has always been nice to me. Paying me more than he should for the yard work. This seems like a shitty thing for me to be doin', messin' around with his wife."

She knows he is feeling stressed when he starts dropping his "g's". He's one of those folks that didn't want his accent to scream, "Deep South" as soon as he opened his mouth. She pats the bed beside her but not right beside her. "Sit down, hon. It's okay. I won't touch you unless you want me to. Learning to respect boundaries is half the battle. I'd like to imagine I've learned a thing or two about that over the years. Come on, sit down."

He walks over and she cannot, not for the life of her, keep her eyes off his swaying cock. She instinctively reaches for the front pocket for her phone, which being naked and all, isn't there. In fact, it's downstairs playing Ray's "Time to Roger" playlist. She stretches and picks up the receiver of the old school landline phone that sits on the bedside table. She'd wanted Ray to find an old rotary one, telling him that if they were going to go antique, they might as well go all the way, but he'd sweetly declined. She punches in his cell number.

"Ray, honey, how's the conference?" she asks when he answers. Nathan jerks upright. He'd been sitting with his arms on his legs, hands clasped and hanging between his knees. "Ray, I'm going to hold the phone out so we both can hear, alright darlin'?"

"Sure, Mart." She leans toward Nathan and holds the phone up between their heads. "Okay, Ray, go ahead."

"Okay, what's up? Let me guess you got Nathan with you." Nathan's head pivots toward her, eyes wide. "That's right, I do," she tells him.

"Hey, Nathan. How you doin' son?" Nathan's mouth moves but no sounds come out.

"Honey, he's a little too flabbergasted, or nonplussed, love that word, shame so many people use it wrong, at the moment, to talk to you. Ray, honey, he's worried he's doin' you wrong. I told you Ray, Nathan is one of the sweetest men to grace this town."

"Nathan, I can't tell you how much I appreciate or how proud of you I am that, unlike so many folks, what's goin' on between your legs hasn't robbed you of your conscience. That's a rare thing, son. Hang on to that. I applaud your sense of decency and concern but this time it's misplaced. Marta and I have an agreement regarding this sort of thing. It works for us. It doesn't work for some. It works for us because I trust her and she trusts me. I knew she was going to try to get you into bed with her. I got to tell you, I'm dyin' to hear all about it later. So, it's up to you, bud. You're not stabbin' me in the back. Treat Marta nice and make her feel good and you'll be doin' both of us a favor. Marta? Darlin'?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I need to get back to the conference. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, baby. Love you."

"Love you, too. Later, Nathan."

"Later, Mr. Peters." Nathan's voice is as croaky as a hung-over bullfrog with laryngitis but he manages to make his throat work.

Marta drops the receiver back in place. She scoots back in the bed and leans back on one elbow. "You want to lie down her beside me, hon, while you think things over?" He doesn't move. "Nathan, it's okay, sugar. We don't have to do anything more. You're a fast learner. I hope we got you past some of your shyness. You'll be fine. You want to go home?"

"I'm not sure. I'm kinda all mixed up inside."

"I understand. You wanna lie down and I'll rub your back, help you relax?"

This time he turns and stretches out on the bed. She strokes his back with her free hand, soft caress with the tip of her fingernails, much as she had when Ryan was a little boy, sick and needing comfort. Nathan wasn't a little boy but at the moment it sure seemed to her that he could use a little reassurance. She is rapidly developing significant doubts that this is a good idea. She will not risk harming the boy for her own needs.

"Nathan, I've enjoyed, probably more than you'll ever know, this afternoon, especially the last half-an-hour or so, and I loved to do more but I'm worried this is stressing you out a wee bit too much. There's other days, other afternoons, or like I said earlier, you're a quick learner and a gentleman. I suspect we've rubbed some of the nerves off you. We don't have to do anything more, 'specially if doing so will trouble your mind."

"Thank you, Mrs. Peters. This feels nice. Can we do this some more?"

"You bet your bippy we can." She strokes his back.

"What's a bippy? I've her my gran say that but I don't know what it is."

"Your gran? Honey, I ought to smack you for that."

"I'm sorr..."

"Relax, sugar. That was a joke. I'm not upset. Hell, I learned it from my mom. I don't know what it is, honey but whatever it is, apparently, you can bet on it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You sure you can't call me Marta, here at least?"

"Okay, I'll try, Marta."

"That sounds nice. Thank you." She continues to stroke his back, from shoulder to the top of his butt and back. Her nails graze lightly over his butt and he shivers.

"That tickles."

"Sorry, Nathan."

"It's fine. Feels good."

"Mmm, I'm glad, sugar."

"Marta?"

"Yes?"

"Uh, would you call me Nathan or Nat. Sugar and hon makes me feel like a little kid."

"Absolutely, Nathan. I take your point." She moves and sits up on her knees. Her lips replace her fingers. "This okay, Nathan?"

"Um, yeah, it's, uh, super nice."

She smiles. Super nice? She'll take it. She kisses her way across his shoulders. His skin is salty and damp. "Nathan, I want to kiss every one of the freckles on your shoulders, one at a time."

"Really? I hate 'em."

"Why on earth would you hate them? You only have a few and, I got to tell you, there goddamn cute."

"You know any guys that want to be 'cute'?"

"Hmm, I take your point but I've always thought you were more sensible than most of you poor devils cursed with defective genes."

"What do you mean? What defective genes?"

"The Y chromosome, sug...Nathan. It sure causes you men a whole lot of trouble."

"Uh-huh. I'm just a kid and this is probably the wrong time to debate the sexes but I sure see a lot of women do just as much dumb stuff as any man. Take my aunt Fran."

"You win. I withdraw the comment." She continues to run her fingernails over his butt. She leans over and rests her head on the back of his shoulder. She inhales slowly. She teaches biology. She knows that human beings do not have the kind of well-developed pheromone system that regulates mating in other animals. She knows this but she also knows that the scent of fresh sweat on a man, and even more so, the musk of an excited man's crotch, drives her insane with desire.

"Nathan, you smell divine."

"I've been sweating a lot. I was afraid I might stink."

"No, sir. You don't stink. You smell good. You smell like a man. I'm glad you came over. I'm happier that you stayed. Are you feeling a little better about everything?"

"I think so but it's hard to know if you, and Mr. Peters, have convinced me this is okay or if I don't want to believe that so I can do what I want to do."