Sarah's Education

Sarah Crawford very nearly burned the beans.

Married just six months ago, in March of 1907, she was still getting used to cooking on the large, black wood-burning stove her husband John bought for her as a wedding gift. Growing up in rural DeKalb County, Alabama, her mother had taught her to cook over an open fire in their one-room cabin's fireplace. Her family was of modest means, so luxuries like the stove and the two-room house John had built were welcome but a bit foreign to her.

She'd met John at the Mentone Springs Hotel nearly a year ago. He was the caretaker of the busy resort and, even at the tender age of 24, was regarded as one of the best carpenters in the county. Sarah was four years younger and had accompanied her mother to the hotel looking for work. Sarah's father had died after a protracted respiratory illness earlier in the year and she and her mother were desperate for an income. They knew how to cook and clean and the resort was only a day's ride from their cabin.

There was only work for one of them, so they decided her mother should take the job as a cook, since she was far more experienced. The pay was low and the hours were long, but the position came with a cook's quarters, which meant she and her mother could live at the hotel.

It didn't take Sarah long to catch John's eye. She was thin, but unusually tall for a woman. Her mother said it was the Cherokee blood on her father's side that was responsible for her stature and her straight black hair. She had a slightly olive complexion that served to highlight the bright green eyes she inherited from her mother.

Sarah had taken a liking to John almost immediately. He was a very eligible bachelor. Charming, with an easy laugh, his occupation had given him broad shoulders and strong hands, neither of which escaped her notice.

She was thinking specifically of his hands as she stood in their house and chopped the carrots her mother had given her during her weekly visit to the hotel earlier that day. The Crawford home was only two miles from the hotel, but situated deep among the trees along the brow of Lookout Mountain, it might as well have been a world away.

She listened as the wind from the valley rose up the sharp incline of the mountain and whistled under the short eaves of the house. She turned to put down the knife and accidentally brushed her pubic mound against the table leg. John built the table by hand and left the legs rough-hewn but gently smoothed with a rasp. One of the larger protuberances, once base of a tree branch that had reached out for the mountain sun, was now pressing between her legs through her dress.

Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed herself more firmly against the knob her husband had unwittingly crafted for this illicit moment of pleasure. Her left hand reached up to her small breast and she could feel the dark, hidden nipple wrinkle and harden under the fabric. A sharp tingle traveled from her crotch up to her chest and she brushed her thumb over the stiff nubbin of her tit, making the sensation stronger. Suddenly, the unwelcome sound of the white beans boiling over onto the stove snapped her out of her reverie.

Embarrassed, she moved toward the hissing beans and wondered what had gotten into her. She suspected it was John's absence that had her in this sensitive state lately. He'd left for Fort Payne two weeks ago to work on the new Wills Valley High School the county had commissioned. They needed a good carpenter and were paying well, so John headed down to the valley, with the hotel manager's blessing, and set about sawing and nailing. Neither she nor John had any formal education, but they recognized the importance of the school to the community. The money didn't hurt either.

She'd missed his laugh and his touch. He'd taught her much about what husbands and wives do in the privacy of their marriage and she'd taken to it immediately. However, John had no idea of the actual extent of her knowledge regarding the mechanics of the male anatomy and she'd never tell him.

Two years ago, her cousin Clem's family had come to stay at her parents' small cabin for a family funeral. At 18, he was the same age as Sarah. They'd met once or twice before, but his folks had moved to Birmingham over 10 years ago when his father found work at a steel mill.

The cabin was already cramped and the arrival of Clem's family put a strain on everyone's patience. A couple of days into the visit, Clem was looking for any excuse to get outdoors. Sarah told him of a pond nearby where some of the men in the area went swimming. With the late June heat closing in on him, Clem thought that was one of the best ideas he'd ever heard. Mixed bathing of any kind was unthinkable, so Sarah politely pointed him down a deer path toward the water and headed back to the cabin.

Later, as dinner time was arriving, Sarah's mother sent her off to fetch Clem. She'd been annoyed at this request, since a man of 18 should be able to tell when a mealtime was nearing. Regardless, she dutifully set off toward the cattail-ringed pond. The cicadas were particularly loud that summer and Clem never heard Sarah approaching. He was stepping out of the water just as she came through the tall brush that surrounded the path.

Sarah saw him before he saw her. She stood stock-still as his shoulders, chest, and waist revealed themselves to her. Clem was thin and wiry, his short-cropped hair standing in contrast to his sparse but longish beard. Sarah's gaze was drawn downward toward the crop of dark hair that surrounded his manhood. She knew that a man's body was different from hers, based on what she'd silently noticed from looking at her family's chickens, pigs, and dogs. But seeing an actual nude man was somehow completely different.

As Clem, fully unaware, gazed off to his left, Sarah watched the water drip from the tip of her cousin's foreskin and the underside of his wrinkled scrotum. She didn't have the words for what she saw but she was entranced, unblinking. After a long moment, as an unexpected warmth was spreading through the secret, hair-covered cleft between Sarah's legs, Clem saw her.

His mouth formed into a soundless 'O' as his eyebrows arched upwards. He reflexively covered himself with his hands as a sharp redness rose over the skin of his chest and cheeks. Sarah turned immediately, chastened by his noticing her.

She started to turn as he called to her, asking what the hell she was doing. The profanity shocked her and she tried to stammer something about dinner being ready, eyes downcast. Although it was the truth, it seemed like a flimsy excuse at that moment.

"Sarah," he said plainly, "come here." She walked toward him, unable to look up from the ground, knowing that her cousin stood before her completely unclothed. She had been in the wrong and couldn't refuse his command. "You can't tell anyone about this," he said quietly. "We'll both get in trouble."

"I know, Clem," she said, nearly inaudibly. "I'm sorry." Her stomach was in knots, despite the persistent warmth radiating from her genitals. She'd had no idea how he would react to being seen, but her apology seemed to be sufficient. And he was right, there was no talking about this to anyone. Her heart was thrumming in her chest.

"I should get dressed," Clem said, after a long moment. The color had started to recede from his face and he moved his hands from over his penis and testicles. Sarah didn't want to look, but as she raised her eyes to his when he spoke, they lingered over what was now a very erect manhood. Suddenly, the sound of the cicadas seemed to completely recede. Their crystalline wings still rubbed together shrilly, but her perception of it faded to nothing.

"Clem." It was barely a whisper. She was unable to tear her eyes away. The sight of her cousin's cock, now pulsing and still wet in the light of the setting sun, gripped her. "Does that hurt?" she asked, genuinely curious and now staring intently.

He smiled, thankfully, and assured her it didn't. "It just happens when men are ready for rutting or an emission." Sarah had heard her father talk of bucks being in rut, but didn't know that it applied to people. "Oh," she said, now abashed. "What's an emission?" she asked.

Clem explained that a man's seed came out of the slit in the tip of his shaft. It was a milky fluid that only males could produce and was necessary for making babies. This all seemed completely wrong to Sarah and she chastised Clem for teasing her.

"I'm not teasing," he said. "It's something we learned about in school." Sarah considered this and, never having been to school herself, didn't have an argument for it. Then she realized he'd mentioned a slit, which she certainly didn't see and thought she might have him caught in a lie.

"Look," her cousin said as he rolled back his foreskin. Sarah studied the glans of her cousin's penis, truly amazed that such a thing could be. It was a darker color than the loose skin that covered it and it glistened, still covered in pond water. He moved the tip of his shaft toward her view and, sure enough, there was a thin, vertical slit in it.

Sarah considered whether to put an end to this and just go back to the cabin for dinner. Her Christian upbringing told her she should, but her curiosity got the best of her.

"Have you ever had an emission?" she asked. He assured her he had, although he seemed reluctant to discuss it. "Well, where does the seed come from?" she pressed. He explained that the two round globes in the sac underneath his still-stiff appendage were called testicles. "They produce the seed and it comes out of the slit," he explained with the air of a distinguished professor, even though the explanation was somewhat rudimentary. She was still slightly skeptical, but he did seem to know a lot about it. "We learned that when the seed comes out, it's called an ejaculation," Clem shared.

Sarah's head swam with this knowledge. She was thankful to Clem for entrusting her with it and it excited her to know this was an unmentionable secret between just the two of them. The moisture inside her vagina had reached such an apex that she could feel a drop form and leak out from between her engorged labia. Slightly dizzy, she barely registered it happening.

Another question occurred to her, even though it was wildly embarrassing. Still, she had to know. "Clem," she questioned, "where does your water come from?" He understood that she was referring to his urine but she didn't know the word for it. He told her it came from the same slit she was still staring at, but now with less shame and more legitimate interest. She laughed dubiously, but he protested it was true. Sarah knew this was beyond her understanding and accepted he was probably right. He did know more than she did, after all.

As the sun continued to drop toward the horizon, Sarah felt like she'd been at the edge of the pond with Clem for an eternity. In reality, it had been less than 10 minutes. But seeing a penis, first flaccid then fully erect, knowing it was her cousin's, studying his ruddy and undulating scrotum, and learning the deepest secrets of men had totally shattered her perception of time.

Her mother would surely come looking for her soon, but Sarah was now insatiably curious about one last thing. "How does a man have an emission, Clem?" she prodded. "Does he just think about having one?"

Clem smiled slightly and looked at his tall cousin's face. The fact that he was telling her all this was making him incredibly excited. His cock was aching in its hardness.

"Not usually," he said, looking directly into her sparking green eyes. His own gaze then dropped to the two erect nipples that were prominent under Sarah's thin, cotton dress. He explained that it usually required some kind of physical stimulation but could just happen sometimes as a man slept.

All inhibition gone, Sarah asked him to show her. Clem thought about this for the briefest moment, but his lust overrode all inhibition. After all, his cousin had snuck down to the pond, watched him emerge from the water without a stitch of clothing, and was now asking him to show her what he meant by stimulation. It was too much to resist. He knew he shouldn't be naked in the presence of his relative, but the hardness of her nipples convinced him to show her.

Clem grasped the whole shaft of his penis and began to slowly stroke forward and backward, his foreskin rolling over the glans. Sarah would later realize men's cocks came in many different sizes, but Clem's was the first she'd seen. In retrospect, it was not especially lengthy or thick, but it was his and she was grateful to him for exposing it to her unwavering gaze. Its stiffness was a true novelty to her. She hadn't realized it could look so different compared to when it had dangled loosely as he'd emerged from the swimming hole, unaware of her voyeurism.

Clem quickly approached his climax as she watched and stopped his masturbation after about a minute and a half. "Sarah," he said, "do you want to try it?" Sarah didn't hesitate, even though she knew this was completely inappropriate. Her desire had consumed her.

She moved behind Clem, just to his right, and reached down to grasp his veiny manhood from behind. The wiry hair at the base of it gently ticked her thin wrist and she felt a pulsing in her crotch that matched the arcing rhythm of her cousin's cock.

Her palm was just a bit wider than the length of his shaft, so she focused on making a circle of her thumb and forefinger, as she'd seen him do, and concentrated her stroking just under the corona, although she didn't have a word for it.

Sarah watched as the darker skin of her hand glided over the pale white length of her cousin's most secret region. She rested her left hand on his slim hip, just above his bare buttocks. Her husband John would later introduce her to the sensitivity of a man's anal sphincter, but she had no understanding of that as she rubbed her cousin's erection toward its emission.

She marveled at the contrast between Clem's glans and foreskin. The foreskin was light and wrinkly and had made a loose ring when it covered the glans. When she rolled the foreskin back, the underlying tip was dark pink and velvety, its texture smoother and tauter. She craned her neck forward, so she could see Clem's slit clearly when his seed came forth.

Clem reached across his body with his left hand, grazing his right nipple with his wrist. His cousin was driving him toward ecstasy and he no longer cared for any consequence. He attended church weekly, but his notions of right and wrong abandoned him as his dark-haired cousin gently stroked him toward an inevitable ejaculation.

His reach was grasping for Sarah's right breast. Although she was behind him, he knew her naked nipple lay just underneath her thin cotton dress. Undergarments were not a necessity in rural northeast Alabama in the summer of 1905 and he'd seen the thick tips of her small tits prominently advertising themselves through the flimsy fabric since he'd arrived at her family's cabin. It only seemed fair, since she'd seem him fully exposed - penis, scrotum, and pubic hair - and was inexorably bringing him toward the most private and intimate moment a man of 18 could have -- his unbridled ejaculation.

Clem pulled the top of Sarah's dress aside, looked downward to his right, and took in the sight of her deeply wrinkled nipple. Her breast was covered in gooseflesh and her nubbin was the color of a dark raspberry. Seeing her small, firm tit in its state of excitement was a revelation. He inhaled sharply and Sarah leaned in to nuzzle his neck with her lips, one hand clutching his bottom as the other was wrapped tightly around his erection, sliding his foreskin obscenely, to and fro.

Sarah reflexively pushed her pubic mound toward Clem's firm ass. Her clitoris, although she couldn't have described it as such, was firmly erect and more sizable than her slight build might have let on. It slid easily past her clitoral hood, and was separated from Clem's bare flesh by the merest of threads. Her husband, John, would eventually secretly relish its unusual prominence, known only to him. It was the key to unlocking his wife's easy and powerful orgasm and he delighted in his good fortune.

Sarah, although she nearly came as she masturbated her cousin Clem, was building her lust too far behind him and would not be satisfied in that moment. Still, she delighted in feeling his hips involuntarily thrust forward as she gently ministered to his needs. The soft pad of her forefinger provided a welcome friction to the underside of his frenulum.

As the light slowly played out on that warm June afternoon, Sarah felt a deep connection to her cousin. Yes, they were related, but more importantly they were now bound in a deep, secret trust. He was fully exposed to her and he was the first man to see her exposed breast. Although they were only together in this one moment in time, it would stay with both of them for years, a cherished memory.

Clem inhaled sharply, said her name once, and released his seed. It leapt from his slit and his semen sprayed out over the moist earth at the edge of the pond. Sarah saw the milky fluid erupt, just as he'd described. She was not expecting multiple spurts and watched, enthralled, as a second long arc of seminal fluid squirted from his erection. Clem's warm ejaculation clung to the blades of grass and brown leaves where it fell.

His cock continued its enthusiastic orgasm for four more pulses, the final two coming out weakly and dribbling over Sarah's knuckles. Spent, he exhaled loudly and turned to put on his clothes. As he turned away, Sarah gazed at the warm ejaculate still coating her fingers. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed its light, pollen-like scent. Making sure Clem wasn't watching, she turned her finger toward her tongue and tasted her cousin's seed, still fresh from escaping his thin penis. It was a bit thicker than she expected, and the saltiness of it surprised her, but she didn't find his bodily fluid objectionable.

Back in her marital home, Sarah's mind returned to the dinner preparation at hand. With a light rain now starting to fall outside in the gloom, she thought briefly of the episode 3 months ago when she'd taken her husband John's penis fully into her mouth for the first time. In that moment, she'd found herself recalling the very first taste of ejaculate she'd had from Clem, just as John's orgasm squirted onto her tongue.

It did seem to John that she'd had many fewer questions than she normally did about their sexual activities that particular night. If he'd thought harder about it, he'd have wondered why she didn't ask about the taste and texture of his semen, but he'd never know that his emission was actually the second one she'd tasted.

It would not, however, be the last.