I Learn a Few Things From My Sex Ed Teacher
You can’t take the boy out of the man.
The day my wife Melanie came home from teaching her first sex education course, she burst into tears.
“I don’t know what to do!” she said with a wail as she sat at the kitchen table. “Every time I opened my mouth, the boys would heckle me. And the girls weren’t any better! They were on their phones the entire time.”
“Hey, hey,” I said, rubbing circles into her back to help her avoid a panic attack, “it was just a bad first day. Every teacher has them. Do you need me to get my dad on the phone to talk you down? He has plenty of stories from his days teaching abroad.”
But Mel just shook her head, her eyes still glassy with tears. “Noah, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t think I can take any of your dad’s jokes right now.”
“He probably would make a few puns,” I said, and that comment earned me a watery smile.
“Yes, well, I think I should go to bed early tonight.”
“What? I thought we’d go out for pizza to celebrate.”
Melanie shook her head. “I’m too anxious. I’m not good company right now. This whole thing has me doubting everything I’ve been doing all this time.”
I made a soft sound of acceptance before I murmured, “You’re going to be a great teacher, Mel. Don’t let a couple of teenage assholes make you doubt that.”
Mel sighed, clearly not believing me, and I couldn’t help letting out a sigh myself.
Then I had what could only be construed as a light-bulb moment.
“Come on,” I said before I took her by the hand and led her to our living room couch. She stared at me dubiously, clearly suspicious, before I laid down on the couch and stared at her with what I hoped was an inviting look.
“I’m ready for my first lesson,” I said, fluttering my eyes, and my wife made a silly little sound of laughter.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly serious,” I said, taking hold of her wrist until she relented and straddled me in one of our favorite positions.
But she seemed at a loss, hesitating, before I lifted a hand to her face. “Teach me, Mrs. Triton,” I whispered, running a thumb against the edge of her lips.
Then I rolled up into her, making sure I made enough contact to press against her to let her know exactly what I wanted. It wasn’t the first time I’d played the lovestruck student to her no-nonsense teacher; the roles added a spice to our bedroom antics that might have cooled otherwise into our seven-year marriage.
“You’re being a naughty boy, aren’t you?” she whispered, running her hands along my shirt before she dipped lower to the fly of my jeans. It took everything I had not to groan with impatience.
“Oh, so naughty,” I murmured. Mel smiled and leaned down to bring a kiss to my lips even as she unzipped my jeans and released my cock from its fabric prison.
Then she proceeded to show me the art of the handjob, something I would probably never get tired of revisiting. I leaned back and closed my eyes as her hands acquainted themselves with my cock, her palms running up and down to stroke in just the right way for me to feel like I was floating in some out-of-body experience.
I may have been the one getting off, but I knew my wife. She liked giving pleasure as much as she loved receiving it. This little interlude was a good distraction from her stress over work.
It wasn’t long before my breathing grew heavy, my eyelids heavy with lust, as she continued her quiet assault. “Yeah, just like that,” I said.
I could tell Mel was enjoying herself from the smile she wore, but soon enough I was bucking against her hands as my release overcame me. Everything got a bit hazy after that. She cleaned me up and then pressed another kiss to my mouth.
“Do you want to continue our lesson?” she asked, her voice low.
I smiled lazily at her. “Let me guess. A shower lesson?”
“Oh, you know me far too well.”
“That’s why I always get those gold stars, Mrs. Triton.”
“And plenty of praise,” she added.
“Hey, I’m an overachiever. What can I say?”
We took our time getting to the shower. When we were in the bedroom, Mel stripped out of her clothes, layer by layer, till all that covered her was the purple lingerie set I’d bought for her last birthday. I admired the lace trim as I brought my hands to cup her breasts.
“You look good enough to eat, Mrs. Triton,” I said, bringing my lips to her neck where I nibbled gently. The display of affection earned me a round of giggles from my beloved wife.
Then it was my turn to get naked, and Mel marveled at me — as she always did — before she kissed me. “I’m a very lucky woman,” she said.
“Does that make me unlucky? How does that work? Have you cursed me, woman?”
She laughed and settled her head against my chest. “If magic exists, then that’s definitely what you and I have.”
A laugh rumbled through my throat. “Okay, you’re confusing me now. Are we playing a student and his teacher, or have we transitioned to a witch and her slave?”
Mel smiled against my skin. “Both is good,” she said, her fingers circling a spot on my bare skin.
I kissed the side of her head. “You’re my first, my last, my always — don’t you know?”
“Likewise,” she replied — and it was all too easy after that for us to get lost in each other anew. My lips brushed against hers in maddening strokes as I buried my hands in her hair to anchor us both in place.
Needless to say, it took us a bit longer to get to the shower, but who cared? It felt like we had all the time in the world.
