. 05

Author's note:

This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very,

very

long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.

No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with

the beginning of Part 1

and read sequentially—giving up at any point you choose, of course.

All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.

This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.

In spite of our short night, we somehow woke Tuesday morning to the early signal, which they kept quieter than most of the others. If you really wanted to get up, to run or study, you were advised to set an alarm clock, to make sure. The last signal at night was even quieter, on the assumption that sane people were already asleep. We managed to make love again without a trip to the lavatory—it hadn't really been all that long. I worked to get her satisfied twice, but pretty quickly, before I came in, and at that point she came again pretty soon, and then when I did as well.

We lazed in bed a while, just talking and enjoying being together, and then made love once more. We didn't spend much time in the afterglow. Besides being tired, by that time we both wanted the lavatory, and a shower, and breakfast, in that order.

There were more boys in the girls' shower than there could have been girls in the boys'. Some people, make that couples, were having to double up. We managed to arrive just as a couple left one of the semi-divided areas, and we grabbed it. Showering took unreasonably long, much, much longer than if we'd been showering separately. If you have to ask why, you don't deserve to know. Breasts wet and soapy are even more intoxicating than usual, and I have it on good authority that the same is true for cocks. Certainly from my side, Samantha's hands stroking were wonderful beyond belief.

We detoured back to her room and shaved, both of us, before heading to the cafeteria.

So we were kind of late to breakfast. We found a place to sit, with a bunch of other people we knew—couples made of people we knew—but none of our real friends. One boy, with a girl who—it seemed—was a couple of doors down from Samantha, looked at us, and then looked again.

"Morris, that was you in Bruja's room last night?" I admitted it. "Someone has a warped sense of humor, then, I guess."

"Actually, we're not unhappy with the situation. However it came about."

His partner stopped chewing with her mouth hanging open. "Wait. Wait just a minute. That was you in there with her? Half the night, at least ten or a dozen times?"

I said, "I'm sorry, I can only remember three. You must have us mixed up with someone else."

Samantha punched me on the arm, the right biceps to be specific—albeit gently. "Phil, be nice! You know as well as I do that she's not talking about how many times you came! And she doesn't care, either, you didn't wake her up. She means me!"

"Oh. I didn't keep count there. Sounds about right, I think."

Samantha gave me a wry look—fond but a bit exasperated—and didn't say anything more. I looked at that couple, and at the number of people sitting all around us with their ears flapping. I decided to try to make something clear. I tried to project my voice a little the way Mr. Miles did, not as loud as that, but designed to carry without sounding like I was raising my voice at all.

"Cody, I may be jumping to conclusions, but you asked a question that tells me you hadn't heard something, and no one else jumped in to explain, so I'd guess that rumor hasn't gotten as far as I would have expected. And I'd like to set things straight. So if you, any of you, run across someone else who hasn't heard, please pass this on, so long as you do it accurately.

"Everyone in the class knows that for three years running, Samantha was on my case about anything she could find. And I tried to ask why and to fix it, and got nowhere. What apparently most or all of you don't know is this. After what happened to her recently, and you all know about that, she realized that she had been wrong, completely, in all that. She was remorseful, to understate it a lot. So last week she came to me, not at all privately, but at supper, when I was sitting with my friends, with a lot of other people around, just about like this. And she told me she realized, she had always realized, that she was hurting me a lot, and that she now realized how wrong it was, and that there was nothing she could ever do to make it up to me. She told me how sorry she was. Well, that is all well and good, but as I said, she understood very well that it was done, she was responsible, and there was no way she could take back what she had done or do enough to make up for it all. So she did the only thing she could do: she asked me to forgive her, in spite of how much she had hurt me. And I did, and I do. Freely and without reservation." Samantha looked like she was about to cry, by this time.

"We got together later to talk it over more, and it became very obvious that, despite my choice to forgive her, something inside me was hurt enough to hold back. I wanted desperately to forgive from the bottom of my heart, and somehow, in some way I didn't understand—and still don't—it seems I couldn't. Being with her, touching her in any friendly way, for example, sort of caused me to shy back. She understood and accepted that this wasn't deliberate on my part, that I meant for it not to happen and couldn't help it. It still hurt her, bitterly, but she was ready to accept this, because she felt that it was her fault.

"Now, here's the part that no one knows. And it's kind of no one's business but ours, but given how public everything before had been, I think everyone needs to hear it. However it happened, we wound up assigned as partners for this week. You can all look at Samantha and see that I should have been very pleased, and for herself she was pleased, except that I couldn't respond to her properly. As we tried to carry out yesterday's assignments, things did get better, but I might as well have been brain dead.

"My own instructor turns out to be a woman of great discernment and imagination, and she came up with an exercise which she thought might help. And we are not going to discuss that, now or ever, with anyone, without a very good reason, which I can't see happening. But it worked. Somehow, it broke through whatever was frozen in my heart, and let me truly believe and understand Samantha's good will. The whole thing took us through the supper hour, and I'm told there were significant announcements which we missed, and we're going to have to find out what all they were."

Someone called out, "They're posted over on the main bulletin board, and also on line."

I continued, "Thank you! That's very good news, because we're running late again, if not as much. But what you all need to know and pass on to anyone who hasn't gotten it, is that Samantha and I have gotten past all the stuff that was between us. We're kind of starting over where we should have been three years ago, on fast-forward, with this week's program on top of it. And we're really, really happy about it, except we wish it could have started three years ago.

"In addition, for anyone whose sleep was disturbed last night, blame me, some anyway." There were laughs and loud comments. "I didn't mean it that way, but yes, that too. What I did mean was that about the time most of you were finishing your evening's activities and getting ready to actually use your beds for sleeping, we were just finishing supper. And we had had a rather trying and frustrating afternoon, for all that it had ended wonderfully. So we got started very late, and we had a lot of making up to do. But here's how I meant I'm the one responsible in this: You all know by now, Samantha tends to be loud when that's going well." More laughs and comments. "I elected not to try to stifle her noise, or to demand that she do so herself. I felt that where we were, she needed to express herself. But I promise that, whatever our assignments from our instructors, one of my personal goals for this week is to get her to learn to moderate that some. I told her that sometime last night or this morning, and I'm going to insist on it. Whether you like it or not," I ended more quietly to Samantha.

Enough people heard that bit, though, that there was a lot of laughter and some scattered applause. I sat down and started trying to shovel the rest of my breakfast into myself. Samantha scooted her chair over close to mine, and put her arm around me, and gave me a squeeze. "Very well put, Phil. You should go into politics, when you get out of school." I nearly choked. "No, I don't really mean that part, but I do mean that you got something hard across to a lot of people, all at once, in a way that got them all on your side. You were too easy on me, but I'll let that go." She squeezed me again. She added, by my ear and for me only, "I won't even embarrass you by calling you sweetheart or something similar, where they all can hear, but I feel that way about you and what you said. And I do mean that it looks like you can influence people by making speeches, the way a good politician needs to, and you should remember that. Dearest."

We headed back and brushed our teeth and used the lavatory, then went off to the staff office wing. At the door we were checked in, and we went up the stairs together, but there we parted. I was about five minutes late to Mrs. Lanigan's—Bella's—office.

She looked at me and said, "Given how late we let you go last night, you probably didn't get very much sleep, either. I wish I still had the resilience you do.

"So, tell me how everything went."

I did my best to leave out nothing I thought she would want to know. It was pretty long, but she didn't interrupt. I finished with a summary of what I said at breakfast.

"Yes, I heard about that, already. You were overheard by more people than you realized, including some of the cafeteria staff people, and they thought your instructor should know. They passed along less of what you said than you just told me now, so I'm glad for your fuller report.

"So you believe that your feelings of hurt toward Samantha have permanently changed, been resolved?"

I spoke carefully. "I think, and hope, that my resentment over that pain has been resolved. You know I meant it to be from the first, really. I'm sure that if I have occasion to remember a specific case, it will hurt. I hope that time will eventually reduce that to a bare shadow, but for now, yes, there's still some hurt there.

"But she came to me earnestly begging me to make it right between us by forgiving her. And I had in effect offered just that, many times. I think what had happened was that I had stopped believing that it ever could do any good, that I felt I was uselessly going through the motions, and, well, it felt afterward like something froze inside me. I don't know what inspired you to use that game, but it showed me that she could truly arouse me, touch me, make me want her, and that she wanted nothing more from me than that. Or, if she wants more—of course she does—she's ready to sacrifice it for that. I really am a little concerned about what will happen at the end of the week. I'm reasonably sure we will remain Phil and Samantha. And she will make it a priority for herself not to be jealous if there's also Phil and Jenny, Phil and Barbara, and all the rest, but it's going to hurt her a little. And I'm not ready to give that up, not when in a few months we will all be out there, apart from each other, not knowing the future at all.

"Of course, at least some of those others are going to find that their partners can give them something I never can, and they may form exclusive, if temporary, relationships that excludes me. If they all do, I'll be pretty disappointed, but I can live with it. Even if Samantha also is suddenly unavailable, which I'm pretty sure won't happen. I lived three years among all these same people with no sex, and while I seem to love it more than most of them, I think I could go without it for the rest of this year if I had to.

"I'm sorry, I've wandered rather far from your question. Yes, with the understanding that what I mean is what I said at greater length at the beginning."

"Very well. I have a slight problem here. We got ahead of ourselves, yesterday afternoon. The main activity to be taught today is fellatio. There are a few other things, too, but minor ones. Your explanation to Samantha was for the most part correct and adequate, for her role, and I was able to observe that you understand your part of it very well, too. There are a few minor points I think I can add which you don't know about, but not many. I normally would expect to perform it on you two or probably three times this morning, and we probably should still do that, but I honestly expect that the first one will be enough. So, my apologies. I think John will have a little more to show Samantha, but you are likely in for a somewhat boring review."

"Ma'am. I mean, Bella. Why don't we try the first time and evaluate? If we need a second, then evaluate after that, and the same for the third. I would much rather make love to you than be sucked on, unless there is a good reason. Not that both aren't good."

"The only reason is that I have to be careful suggesting anything such as that. I'm supposed to be teaching you, not indulging myself. And I honestly have to watch myself. But since you were the one to make the suggestion, if you apply yourself, we should be able to do that, I think. I think for various reasons, twice will be necessary. One reason is obvious. You are already aroused, just from our conversation. I can't reasonably show you anything about the use of fellatio to arouse a man who isn't at all ready, under those circumstances. Although Samantha did that, and probably some of your harem as well."

"One question, before we begin. You gave evidence, yesterday, of having found sucking on me arousing, so much so that you came when I had barely touched you. Is that true? And is that the case with many women?"

"That is one of the things I need to teach you about. As for me, yesterday, well, yes and no. There was certainly some degree of arousal just from that kind of intimacy, in that context. But what aroused me so thoroughly wasn't that, it was watching Samantha with you, and then your response when you took off the blindfold. You both were so moved, not by anything you yourselves had received, but by what you had given each other. To see that, and especially seeing Samantha's side of it, that was what did it. You might say, I couldn't help imagining myself in her place, so happy that she had been able to please you that she was completely overcome.

"Now, we should go in the bedroom for this. Especially later, there will be some mess. So go on in and get undressed. Unless you are so fond of the idea of carrying women over thresholds that you wish to do this with me, too." I merely led her in. Samantha was one thing. There had been a deep emotional connection at that point. Bella was nice, kind, beautiful, and desirable, and she apparently liked me as much as I liked her, but she was, Mr. Miles had said, thoroughly attached to her own husband, and I was glad. She was doing a job, the job of helping and teaching me, and if she enjoyed parts of that for herself, after this week I might be a fond memory but not a lost love.

But a couple of things she had said, the carrying-over-threshold reference just now being one, indicated that they were indeed watching us, in detail, and probably recording. In their place, I would insist on it. I resolved to wait and ask at some better time. But Bella surprised me by saying, "I'm not reading your mind, but your face and your hesitation. I think I know what you are thinking, given what I just said to you. Yes, under the circumstances you need to know that we do watch your practical sessions, and they are recorded against future need, whether study or as legal evidence. John should be mentioning this to Samantha as well this morning, since you deduced it and spoke to her, and your reasoning was compelling. But please pass it on to her in case he forgets, and please, both of you, do not mention it to anyone else."

She turned to explaining how sucking on a man's cock produced its results, and details about the act from the woman's point of view as well as the issues of male anatomy involved. As she had said, I was very thoroughly aroused, and this allowed her to demonstrate some things clearly but not others. She was able to make some things clear. For example, though this activity is a favorite of writers and producers of erotica and pornography, who often suggest that most women thoroughly enjoy it and want it, in fact to most women it is apt to be boring, somewhat difficult and uncomfortable, tiring or painful for the jaws, and not all that good-tasting. Indeed, for many it's positively unpleasant. In general, there are many worse things in life, and even in sexual activity, and most women are willing to do it—and as Samantha had shown, desire for their partner's enjoyment and delight can easily become a compelling motive. And for many women, penetration of the throat is very unpleasant, sometimes impossible without causing vomiting.

She demonstrated most of her points on me with her own mouth.

One little mystery that she cleared up in passing, because I noticed it again and happened to ask, was an internal ache which I often noticed when sexually aroused for an extended period. She explained what I had already known in theory, that the prostate produces some of the liquid part of semen—collecting more as well from other glands—which later picks up sperm from the testicles. She told me that if this gland is called on too long, without discharge, it swells, overfilling, and indeed becomes painful. She took from a drawer a disposable glove and some lubricant, stuck a finger up my ass, and massaged the prostate—through the intestinal wall, of course—to demonstrate its location. And yes, the whole process was uncomfortable, the prostate itself was indeed enlarged and sore, and yet the process was also arousing. She removed and disposed of the glove, wiped away the excess lubricant, and told me that I would be having further, similar and related experiences in the near future when we covered anal sex.

Soon after that, she did perform oral sex on me, at length, pausing occasionally to explain what she was doing, taking me into her throat and then returning to simple sucking. When I had come, at some length, she went over, one last time, the similarities between this and vaginal intercourse. Among these, I had noticed without really understanding that sucking and massaging the head of the cock with the tongue somewhat mimics the effects of the vaginal spasms of female orgasm—or even serious arousal short of orgasm—while during deep throat, the throat itself serves as a fair substitute for a vagina, but without the same kind of spasms. The swallowing occurring during this provides some of the same stimulation, but it is not phenomenologically very similar. She explained and demonstrated the use of the tongue in protecting the penis from the teeth, too.

I had really been painfully aroused, by her beauty and the topic of conversation and her instructional activities, for a long time—despite the extent of my activities the previous night and early morning. The activity provided needed relief, but in the end not for all that long. She discussed stimulation by mouth of a limp cock, what needed to be stimulated and how, demonstrating as she went along. The result was that I was fairly quickly no longer limp and flaccid.