I was finishing my senior year at college, and sharing an apartment with Dan, a physics graduate student. I had dropped out and spent three years in the army before returning.
Our apartment was on the top floor of an old brick building, on a block lined with similar structures that housed people like us - older students and young professionals in their first jobs.
As the school term got started, we noticed two girls rooming together in the next building. We introduced ourselves and within a week hosted them for supper in our apartment. Martha, a slim debutant-type girl had her first job as an elementary school teacher, and Janet, whose boobs looked enticing, worked in Personnel at the telephone company. Somehow, Martha became "my" girl and Janet became Dan's.
Toward the end of the school term, Martha called me, almost in tears. She had been teaching five classes of fourth-graders, giving them quizzes in several subjects at least weekly. Now she had to turn in grades the next day and hadn't done anything about totaling up scores for any of the students. It looked like an insurmountable problem. "I'm probably going to lose my job, just because I hate doing the arithmetic." Could I come over that evening and help her dig out and come up with students' grades she could submit tomorrow?
Well, of course I had to come to the rescue, not that my knowledge of calculus and differential equations was needed for the job. I ate supper early and headed over next door.
Martha and I started in immediately. None of it was difficult, just incredibly tedious. Lots of dumb little numbers to add up and average, to be recorded in the final section of the grade book. I took the lead on computations and Martha became the scribe.
After an hour, Martha was losing heart. We were barely half-way through and she was ready to give up. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she offered. I replied, "Sure, but only when we're finished with the numbers." Martha was disappointed but pulled herself together and we soldiered on with the mind-numbing tedium of measuring and ranking all the dear little pupils' academic performance.
And all of a sudden we were on the last page. The job was done! Perseverance had won out. Martha was relieved and overjoyed as she poured our victory wine. What had looked impossible a few hours ago was finished by dint of a bout of dogged persistence and drudgery. We toasted each other and congratulated ourselves on our accomplishment. What was simply tedious data reduction for me was to Martha a miraculous salvation of her budding career in education. She almost broke down as she told of being able to let go of all the excuses and explanations she had fabricated to explain her ignominious failure to her family and friends back in Philadelphia.
"How can I thank you for helping me - for persisting when I was ready to give up?" she said. I was about modestly to say that it was nothing; just something to help a neighbor out, when she continued, "I asked Janet and another of my friends how I could reward you, explained the predicament I was in and how it was driving me crazy. I ranted on and on until I realized I should shut up and listen to their answer. Both of them independently gave me the same reply: "If this is as important as you say and you're going to make that poor guy do all that work, you own him a blow job at least. Never in the history of the world has a man turned down the offer of a blow job."
Well, I sure perked up at that! I was about to reply when Martha continued, "I know about blow jobs, but the on top of the stress about the grading, another problem that's bugging me is that I've never given one. You've certainly earned a good one, but if you're willing to accept an amateur performance, and advise me on what to do, I hope you'll be satisfied."
"And Janet is staying with a friend, so we have the place to ourselves."
In contrast with Martha' self-doubt and apprehension, the prospect of training an eager virgin mouth in oral stimulation seemed quite appealing. I could feel my cock start stiffening at the prospect of being the first to introduce a stiff penis into her small mouth, to encourage her to use her tongue; to show her what she could do with her hands as she sucked.
Martha was gulping down her glass of wine to calm her nervousness. I said that a blow job would be a wonderful reward for my assistance; that I would be patient and would provide the best instruction I could. She relaxed visibly, revealing a bit of eagerness to get on with her instruction. She said, "Tell me what to do; where should I be?".
I put one of the couch pillows on the floor between my feet and instructed her to kneel on it. "Do I undo your pants?" she asked. I nodded and she started to undo my belt, her hand brushing on the bulge in my trousers. Before long she was holding my cock and inspecting it. "Wow, I've changed boys' diapers when babysitting, but this is something else! Looks like you have a hard-on already." I said that it was more of a "plump-on" but would stiffen up more with the attention she was paying. "Oh, I see, I can feel it getting harder; it's like wood now." I suggested she gently squeeze it rhythmically to encourage it.
"Oh, look, there's a drop of clear liquid coming out of that little slit on top."
