Egg Rolls and Fortune Cookies

"Were you being straight with me when you said your only experience was with professionals? Prostitutes?"

"I'm afraid so," I answered. There was something about Kim that made it impossible for me to lie to her, even if the truth wasn't something a healthy eighteen-year-old could be too proud of.

"Well, I like you very much, Whit Harper. And I'm not blind; I can see that you like me, too. At least part of you does." She was smiling mischievously, her eyes fixed on the bulge behind the fly of my trousers. "I'm not going to lie to you - it's been a long time since I've been with a man and I like the idea of fooling around with you a little. But believe me when I tell you there's more to it. I'm a teacher. I suppose I always have been. And this may not be composition or Seventeenth Century Romantic Poetry, but I think I can teach you something very, very valuable."

"I'll just bet you could." I finally found my voice. As I said it, I slipped an arm around her waist and, a little roughly, I guess, pulled her close to me. Quick as a rattler could strike, she slammed her elbow into the soft spot just below my ribs and wriggled away from me.

"And that's exactly what I mean!" She was frowning and I figured I'd blown it before I even got my pants off. "You seem like an intelligent young man, Whit. You've managed to get into the university on a scholarship even though you came from the middle of nowhere. You must have some sensitivity if you can love literature enough to major in it instead of agriculture. You're nice looking, clean, good manners - mostly. You've got a lot to offer, but you're as raw as a piece of cheap leather."

She'd knocked the wind out of me, and I was still gasping for breath. I knew there would be a nasty bruise on my side where she nailed me, too, and I rubbed it to try to take the sting away. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

"Jesus," I panted. "I'm sorry, Kim. It's just that when you asked me to sit by you, I thought -"

"So you did. Well, I'm not one of the hookers at that cat house you go to, and I'm not interested in a thirty-second quickie. So, here's lesson one, and it's one you should already know: Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you."

I grinned, even though my side still hurt like hell. "The Golden Rule."

"Sure. And lesson two goes with it: Women are human beings. Animals don't make love, Whit, but if they're lucky, people do. How would you like someone to grab you like a piece of meat without any regard for how much enjoyment you might be getting from it?"

"I guess I wouldn't. Okay. You're probably right about me being a little raw, but I wasn't trying to be a jerk." I figured the party was over, but just in case it wasn't, I made up my mind right then that since this had been Kim's idea, it was going to be her show from here on out. "What do you want me to do?"

"That's better. Take off your clothes."

I stood up, and so did she. As I struggled out of my pants and tee shirt, she stood leaning against the wall with her arms folded, watching me. She wasn't smiling but was staring at me real intently. I felt like a calf at a stock auction. When I'd peeled off my socks, I stood next to the bed in only my underpants and looked at her.

"All the way," she said flatly. "Panties too."

"Men don't call 'em panties," I mumbled as I shucked them off. At least I'd finally drawn a smile from her. But now I really was buck naked, and with her still standing there fully dressed, it tended to erode my confidence somewhat. It eroded my pecker's, anyway. Instead of the raging hard on of a few minutes ago, it was drooping at half mast.

Her eyes focused on my privates and she raised her left brow in undisguised appraisal. I was getting more embarrassed by the minute. I think I'm a normal sized guy, but let's face it, we all worry about it, and I was pretty sure mine would win any ribbons at the county fair.

"Very nice," she said softly. "Circumcised. I was afraid I'd have to deal with that, too. Okay. Lie down on the bed. On your stomach. I'm going to give you a rub."

I did as I was told; by now I probably would have obeyed no matter what she told me to do. She wasn't really acting domineering, but there was no doubt that she was in charge, and I was feeling more like a child with every passing minute. Maybe it was her white uniform, but she reminded me a little of the way the nurse acted when I had my physical last year before starting at the university. Now here I was being bossed around by another woman in a white dress. She sat down on the bed beside me and I scooted to one side to make room.

"Ready?"

"I guess," I answered, and laid my cheek on top of my crossed hands.

She picked up a dispenser bottle from the night stand and pressed the plunger six times, filling her cupped hand with a fragrant, pink lotion. It made a slurping sound as she spread it in her palms that was kind of sexy. "I'm going to put some lotion on you, but I'm warming it with my hands first. Even at room temperature a liquid can feel like ice if it goes onto a warm part of your body." Then, spreading her fingers, she began to rub my back. She started from the center and fanned her fingers toward the sides, pressing hard and kneading the muscles with her strong hands. The pink lubricant made her fingers glide over my skin like it was covered with silk. It felt wonderful, but I knew I was going to smell like a department-store perfume counter.

She moved up to my shoulders, spreading out gradually to massage my upper arms. As she worked, she kept adding more lotion as it was absorbed by my skin. While she worked on my neck, spreading her thumbs up my spine and into my scalp, I found myself becoming more and more relaxed. I'd forgotten the first few fumbling minutes of the "lesson" and actually started getting drowsy. Her voice brought me back to wakefulness.

"While I'm doing this, Whit, I want you to pay close attention." She spoke so softly I had to strain to hear her. "Some parts of it are going to feel really nice, but I want you to do more than enjoy it; I want you to remember it. Remember what feels especially good so you can give it back to someone when you get the chance." As she spoke, her warm hands were kneading the cheeks of my buttocks, releasing years of tension I'd never even known was there.

When she'd finished my lower back, she spread more lotion on her hands and began to massage my feet. She rubbed the bottoms, the heels, the arches, and the balls of my feet, varying the pressure so it wouldn't tickle. She played with my toes, running her slippery fingers between them and pumping them one at a time, as if each one were a little penis. My real one began to react to the suggestion.

From my feet, she worked up my legs. Calves first, then the thighs. As she reached my ass, she stopped massaging and began to caress me instead. She went back to my neck, then down my back, and onto my rear again, petting me softly with her velvety fingers and hands. By now, my skin was smooth as could be, but she pumped another generous dollop of the lotion into her hand. Her fingers glistening with the pink lubricant, she began to press them more deeply into the cleft between my ass cheeks, dragging her fingernails behind her as she explored this new valley. I began to breathe harder as her fingers awoke sensations I didn't know I had.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a cute little bottom?" she asked softly.

"Not that I remember."

"Well, you do." Kim bent over and her mouth was so close to my ass I could feel the warmth of her breath on it. Her hair, spilling over the front of her shoulders, brushed against the cheeks of my buttocks sending tiny needle-pricks of arousal throughout my body wherever it touched. All the while her hands continued their search, spreading my cheeks and reaching deep with their fingers. With a sudden gasp, I realized that her warm slippery index finger was resting against the doorway to my anus and pressing hard against it.

"What are you doing?" I'd never been touched there before, and I wasn't sure what she was up to.

"Hush," she whispered in return. "Try to relax. You're so tight." She'd added a fresh squirt of the lotion, and with her finger back against me, began a rhythmic pressing and releasing against me, each time a tiny bit harder than the last. It didn't feel unpleasant, and I was trying to concentrate on it, but I kept wondering how careful I'd been with my morning shower.

Suddenly, for no reason that I know of, my sphincter muscle relaxed and, with an eye-watering sensation, she was inside me. She pushed her long slender finger deep into me and held it there for a moment, touching the inside wall of my rectum. I'd never felt anything like it in my life; there was some mild burning, but overriding it was an electrifying pleasure. My penis, which had gone up and down intermittently throughout her massage, now seemed filled with molten steel. It was as if there was an electric circuit connected between Kim's fingertip and the most sensitive nerve endings of my sex.

"Does that hurt you?" she murmured.

"Hunh unh," I grunted.

"I didn't think so." Slowly she pulled the invading finger back, then drove it in again, establishing a rhythm. She continued that way for almost a minute and I began to think she might make me come. Then she stopped, her finger inserted as far as it would go, and started to rotate her digit, as if trying to enlarge the opening. Finally, with an audible pop, she extracted her finger and laid her warm hand on my butt.

"What did you think of that? Do you like it?" she asked.

For a long moment, I was speechless. I didn't like it; I loved it. But it was frightening at the same time. I'd heard that homosexuals did stuff like this. Was I gay? She was waiting for an answer. I could feel the slippery tip of her index finger resting against my cheek and she rubbed the tip of it softly against me to make sure I wouldn't miss it.

"I don't know," I said, finally. "Men aren't supposed to like that kind of thing, are they?"

"You really don't know anything, do you? Do you think you can just tell your body which sensations are allowed and which are off limits? Your mind sets the limits on what you'll allow yourself to enjoy, but not on what your body can feel. Your body just is. How much pleasure you get from sex just depends on how much you allow. Roll over."

I rolled over onto my back. The crack of my ass was still filled with lotion and I thought I could hear it squish as my buttocks rubbed together. If felt real nasty. But nice, too, I decided.

On my back with my arms at my sides, I watched as she reached behind her and unzipped her dress. In seconds she had squirmed out of it and had also dispensed with her slip and her hose. Now it was my turn to look interested as she unhooked her bra and, with a tiny shrug, slipped it off. My first sight of her breasts was breathtaking. Though round and plump, they scarcely sagged at all. She must not have been much for sun bathing, because there were no tan lines to distract from the smooth pink expanse of her torso. Her areolas were huge and very dark, with a smaller, almost black inner ring surrounding the nipples. The nipples themselves were a delicate rose color and stood erect and defiant. I glanced at my hand to compare their size with the tip of my little finger; there wasn't much difference.

Now only her panties stood between her and complete nudity. They were white, full-cut nylon satin and fit close around her. Behind the crotch I could just make out the tantalizing triangular blackness of her hair. I knew it would be thick and soft and warm. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. Her face was expressionless, but after the last time, I wasn't going to risk another rebuff.

"Can I touch you?" I asked.

"Not yet. I'm not through with you."

She continued the massage, working upward from my feet and over my thighs. There was one spot on my inner thigh that, when she touched it, almost sent me into spasms.

"What's this," she asked, touching it again with the same effect, "a secret place?"

"It must be. I never felt that before. It's wonderful."

I wanted her to keep it up, but instead she skipped over my pelvic area and began to rub my arms and hands. They were still tingling from the pressure of her touch when she went to work on my face. She told me to close my eyes while she massaged my temples, then spread her fingers and softly rubbed my forehead, my eyelids, the sides of my nose, the soft sensitive areas under my jawbone, and onto my throat.

Her every move was slow and sensuous and designed to prolong the pleasure and heighten the anticipation I was feeling. My heart was banging like a Ford tractor with a bent rod, and I still think an older man might have died from the stress of her protracted teasing touch. But there was nothing I could do about it; Kim was setting the pace and all I could do was follow.

Now she was massaging my torso, stroking me softly from my collarbone clear down to the place where my own pubic hair began. Just as I was beginning to wonder if it would ever end, she snatched one of the two big bed pillows, dropped it to the floor and slid off the bed to kneel alongside it.

"Scoot over close to the edge, so I can reach you."

When I'd moved over so close to her that my arm was ready to fall off the edge, she again placed her hands on my chest. With her thumb, she pressed lightly on my left nipple, and then she began to rub it, moving her thumb in a circular motion over the sensitive surface. My eyes, which had been closed, flew open in surprise at the sensation. I took a deep breath and looked down at my chest to see what was normally a tiny smudge of brown pigment grown darker and standing erect and engorged. Could this be normal? I'd never heard of a man getting felt up by woman, much less the man enjoying it so much. It was as if another direct line to my penis had been activated. She began to pinch the erect nipple, softly at first, and then harder, and with each new stimulation, my erection leapt involuntarily toward the ceiling. Kim must have been able to read my mind, because she answered my unspoken question.

"You didn't know you liked to have your titties played with, did you. Don't worry; there's nothing wrong with it. It's just one of our best kept secrets. We all have the same nerve endings. Try to concentrate on the pleasure."

Now she bent her head and covered my nipple with her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue over the throbbing erect nub, and sucking noisily. I looked beyond her head to my penis and saw that a clear oily droplet had appeared at the tip. Kim must have seen it, too, because her fingers now closed softly around the shaft. The crown she covered with the ball of her thumb and began to smear the slippery fluid over the head.

Her mouth abandoned my nipple and moved lower. In a twinkling, my eager penis was encased in the soft radiant wetness of her oral cavity. Twice her head bobbed and twice I gasped before she released it. She must have been hoarding her saliva because my member was covered with a thick creamy film that glistened wetly in the soft light. She wrapped her fingers around it and began to move her hand up and down the shaft in a pumping motion. With her third stroke, the orgasm was upon me.

A blinding white flash seemed to fill the room as I went into convulsions of pleasure. A white rope of semen shot out of me and landed on my chest. The second bolt filled my navel and spilled out across my stomach. As Kim continued to stroke me the rest of my ejaculate spilled over her fingers and puddled at the base of my penis.

As I lay gasping on the bed, Kim held up her hand and licked off the accumulation of fluid that covered it like spilled milk. When she'd sucked each of her fingers, she dried her hand in her hair.

"That's much better than egg rolls," she said softly. "They say it has more vitamins, too. Have you ever tasted it?"

"No!" I answered more loudly than I'd intended, but I'd already discovered enough disturbing things about myself for one day.

"Well, you will someday - when you're ready." She turned her gaze back to the quickly cooling puddles that seemed to coat my entire torso. "It must have been a long time for you. I barely touched you before you came."

She went to the sink and returned with a warm wet wash cloth. She cleaned my chest and my stomach and then rubbed the warm cloth gingerly over my flaccid penis. To my surprise, it began to reawaken and was quickly at that state I call "half-hard." Abandoning the cloth, Kim climbed over the top of my supine body and lay down beside me. Her breasts, incredibly soft and warm, rested heavily against my own bare chest. Her hand fell between my legs and she stroked me gently until, within seconds, I was again fully erect.

Then, looking deeply into my eyes. "Did you like the massage, Whit?"

"Oh, yes. Very much."

"Remember it. Remember everything."

"Don't worry." I chuckled despite my growing excitement. "I think it's burned into my brain."

Her face was so close to mine that her hair was tickling my eyes. As she spoke, I inhaled the sweet aroma of her warm breath (was that the smell of semen?), and waited for her to make the next move. She made it.

Placing her hand on my cheek, she turned my face gently toward her and covered my mouth with hers. Her tongue moved across my closed lips and, like some kind of animated pry bar, wedged them apart. I'd never been kissed like this before. In our little town, French kissing was something the boys talked about but nobody had ever really done, and I had principles against kissing prostitutes, even if any of them had offered - which they never did, anyway.

As my mouth opened slowly, her tongue invaded it like a snake down a gopher hole. She thrust and probed, in and out, as if her tongue were a penis and my mouth had, unaware, been transformed into a vagina to receive it. As our lips pressed hotly together, I followed and imitated her every move, exploring her mouth and her lips with my tongue. Minutes passed while we feasted on each other, the silence broken only by our heavy breathing. Then, remembering what Kim had done for me, I decided to return the favor.

With my mouth still pressed against hers, I moved my left hand to her right breast, carefully placing my thumb against her nipple, and rubbed it softly. Her gasp pulled the air from my own lungs, but I pressed my lips and my body even more closely against her as I began to pinch and massage her nipple, hugely erect and yielding in the grasp of my thumb and forefinger.

Suddenly her hands were on my head, pressing it urgently downward. I leaned and covered her waiting breast with my mouth. The nipple, stretching long and proud, filled my mouth and seemed almost to move of its own will as my eager tongue embraced it. The softness of it, the texture, the tender pressure of her hand on the back of my head, urging me to suckle her, were more than pleasurable; they touched me deeply and intensely. For the first time in my life I knew what women meant by tears of joy.

If it had been left up to me, I might never have stopped. As it was, long minutes passed as I nursed at Kim's breast before finally she tugged my mouth back to hers. I continued toying with her nipple, slippery now from my mouth, as we kissed. In a moment, I felt her hand on mine, pulling it away from her breast and downward.

"Touch me. Down there," she breathed.

My hand glided over her smooth firm abdomen and under the waistband of her panties. She stopped me only long enough to wriggle out of them.

I'd been right. Her hair felt soft as down as I rested my hand on her pubic mound. Now Kim's hand was on top of mine and she took my finger in her hand and guided it lower. She was soaking wet - with something warm, but that was too slippery to have been urine. Could all of that have come from inside her?