本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛See top 10
http://www.myfirsttime.com/ads/
例文
Larry
Sex = Male
Where it happened = tutor's apartment
Reference Number = 1446
My father is an educational psychology professor and his educational aspirations for me outstripped mine. Five weeks into my grade, my parents were informed I was flunking English. I had blown off all my themes and hadn't read any of my assignments. One of Dad's grad students had a theory on how to motivate sluggards like me and so he challenged her to tutor me.
The deal was that she would get the higher grade of her class work and my grade in English, plus $300 for her time if she would work with me three sessions a week. The course was on academic underachievers so it wasn't an unmitigated sellout, but the seemliness is dubious.
Christina's motivational techniques were without peer in the field of educational psychology. She picked me up from my school, took me to her apartment, and put it right on the line: Dad's course was a time eater and if I did my work, she could blow off Dad's course and still get a good grade. She would make it all worthwhile for me. I couldn't image what she might offer so she asked if I would like to learn all about sex. I wasn't interested in more reading and said so. Christina unhooked her bra, lifted her sweatshirt, and smiled.
I knew exactly what breasts were, being a connoisseur of certain periodicals all the way back to s of age, and Christina's were first rate. If you took two softballs and sliced off about a and glued them on your chest, you have a fair approximation of her shape and size. There was just the barest onset of gravitational distortion from absolute sphereness. The nips were square on, capable of passing the most stringent motor vehicle headlight test. What were beautiful about Christina's were the faint, fine blue veins that marbled her creamy skin. I reached out to grab, but Christina was too quick for me and down came her shirt as she stepped back, wagging her finger. "I think you and I can work something out," she said as she loaded me up with five chapters of Silas Marner to read and summarize in writing. She explained in detail the points I had to cover in my report and stated that the sessions were for two hours and no more: English first, "other" topics after. Those were abusively exorbitant terms but definitely worth pursuing for at least one session.
The higher the quality of my preparation, the less time we needed to squander on English. I was given lessons on caressing breasts and then on sucking nipples. Before long, she was giving me orgasms with her hand, giving me looks at her derriere with its cute dimples and ultimately looks at her holy of holies at ever decreasing distances. All I was allowed to touch were her gorgeous breasts and the actual sex was confined to her applying Vaseline to me which concluded most sessions. She was true to her word and actually made it a learning experience. Once she had a microscope set up and I could see my sperm in the clear drool before I was ever near ejaculating--a worthwhile lesson for any male who wishes to defer fatherhood. Another time she gave me a tour of the secrets within her lips with an explanation of the various parts. She let me watch when she peed. I got lessons on what girls are seeking as they get seduced and the classic turn-offs. She told me about her first time, her great times, her regretful times. She answered most any question I could think of and some were impertinently personal. I never, ever worked so hard on my English. Procrastination and sloth would get in the way of the most important thing in my life. I got an A-minus that semester and the minus was only because of the slow start.
Dad asked Christina to write up her methods as he awarded her fee and her A-minus. He also asked if she might continue for the semester for all my subjects. The offer was $750 and her grade would be linked to my grades again. She upped the ante to a six-hour independent study in which her only responsibility was to write a paper on her methods and being excused from his regular class which was a degree requirement.
I saw Christina three times a week as before, except I was to work harder and be rewarded accordingly. I got detailed lectures on internal male plumbing culminating in a prostate massage. She told me about menstruation and demonstrated the use of tampons. I got a lesson on all the fine points of using a condom which culminated in receiving oral sex. I got kissing lessons. I got lessons on how to give Christina orgasms with my fingers and later with my tongue. I learned how to use a vibrator on her. We took showers together.
I found transcending my previous week's school work would assert a corresponding challenge to her. I met her every command and expressed my longing. Christina finessed me. We put off the grand prize until my midterm reports. What I hadn't considered is that the students in trouble are at the front of the line for parent-teacher conferences and those who did well were at the end. My conference was the absolute last in the class. Though we didn't have an appointment that Tuesday, I rushed my grades to Christina and asked to get laid. Christina declined, telling me never to demand payment on an IOU from a lady. The next day she had me understand that our relationship couldn't last beyond the end of school and that parting would be sorrowful. She also invited me to come with he the following Saturday to see Arthur Miller's "The Crucible" that her boyfriend produced and directed for his term project at a college 80 miles away. I was to remain over night in somebody's dorm room. "Who knows?," she said, "Maybe the evening might be special or maybe another one will be." I wondered just how liberal her boyfriend was. She canceled our Friday session on short notice but the trip for the play was on.
I got laid on Saturday, May 12, 1990:15 p.m. It een hours of passion in her apartment, starting with an hour and a half of Cliff Notes (on guess what literary work). Christina didn't have a boyfriend. (Instead, she had an "arrangement" with a professor which now makes me wonder what other courses she blew off.) There also was no play but at least the other college actually did exist.
Christina correctly pointed out I had only so many "shots" and I might as well enjoy the preliminaries and make leisurely foreplay. I chose missionary for my first go and it was almost everything I hoped for. Christina was thoroughly slick and responsive when I entered her. My big disappointment was I didn't have more than a dozen strokes before I came, despite Christina's homework assignments to practice extending my masturbating sessions. Christina explained she put me off until an overnighter because, were it a weekday, it certainly would be a pity to have to run home now. She said, "Anyone who says all systems were AOK with the first launch is lying through his teeth." She called up for pizza to be delivered, we had a shower and ate supper.
Christina said it was her turn and suggested we do it on the floor with her on top. I gave her a lot of licking and when we got to it, she had a great time and so did I. I know she wasn't faking it because while a girl possibly could work her vaginal muscles as she makes frantic little squeaks, she simply can't turn on a whole body blush voluntarily. Several months ago, Christina assured me that my four-and-a-quarter inches would grow, (and it eventually did so.) When I commented on her blush, she reminded me of my size concerns and pointed out that while my equipment was still a tad small yet, splendid technique is what brought home the field goal. (In retrospect, the splendid technique was largely on her part, but the compliment delighted me.)
The and final act of this theater primeval started out doggie fashion. She had to arch her backside into the air as I was, uuum....short. While it was great for cosseting breasts, it made for obscene slurping noises. The cold air whistling past was not great either, so I rolled her on her back and I finished her off missionary style. That orgasm marks my transfiguration into a man. I can say no more.
In the afterglow, Christina extracted a promise to make my grade as good as this year. If I truly loved her, I would do this to safeguard our little secret. She could have asked for anything I possessed in those moments and she would have obtained it. The following week, she reminded me and held me to my promise. I gained a flash of comprehension concerning glamorous female espionage agents, gold diggers, and all other women on quests.
The next morning at dawn, we discussed existentialism vs "The Crucible" over coffee cake. We did her straddling me as I sat on a kitchen chair which gave her good penetration but it was all her show for the pacing.
After another shower, Christina got me into my fresh, ironed pajamas which she had steamed and set me to rolling around in them. Christina would have made a fine criminal the way she covered all the angles. Come to that, she was in fact a criminal because I was but I forgive her. I got home midmorning and I proceeded to recount the play and the discussion of its existential meaning.
I had just three more weeks of Christina before her finals were over. The fantastic sex only got better. She impressed upon me I had been provided with a "secret weapon" called education and I must wield it responsibly. I could likely score with any girl I chose but I must choose selectively. She also got a commitment that if the girl I go the distance, I use a condom each time, every time, pill or no pill--I have no excuse for "fucking up."
When I expressed regret with not getting laid sooner, Christina just smiled and said, "It wouldn't be as good if we skipped the preliminaries." The other reason I figured out years later was that Christina was playing a high-stakes game and she couldn't risk letting my interest fade. She did a masterful job of giving me a continuous escalation for almost eight months.
Dad called up all my teachers and learned I was getting straight A's which was something brand new for me so Christina got six credits of A for a
mediocre paper. He questioned me about Christina's tutoring methods because her paper was a disappointment. Fortunately, she gave me enough legit advice that Dad concluded that it was a case of talent over science. Dad rounded her fee up to $1000 because he was so pleased.
I was so in love with Christina. I was hoping for a one, last private good-bye on graduation day but her parents and older brother were there, so that was out of the question. A whispered, "I love you," in my ear and a pair of unwashed panties stuffed in my pocket kept me in unequivocal thralldom in absentia for a year, at least.
I still love Christina and I will love her forever. She did accomplish a permanent change in my life. She did teach me study skills and I found out doing well in school attracts the kind of girls I want to pleasure. My love life has been fantastic because Christina taught me deliberate and systematic lovemaking. I don't take every girl all the way, only those that are worth the investment. Every new girl is new and different and there is a learning curve no matter how many you have had before.
Someday I will tell Dad about Christina but not until the legal statute of limitations has run out.
Christina's methods have a far more solid theoretical basis than any of the novel approaches the education establishment is continually trotting out with magnificent fanfare. In my case, successful manipulation of basic brain stem control mechanisms which are copiously validated in the general professional literature of the established pedagogic practicum corpus was accomplished with concurrent shunting of maladaptive behavioral conditioning residing in cerebral cortex pathways stimulating a culturally prescriptive goal-oriented response to external didactic imperatives.
Sorry, Dad. I love you, but we're in different worlds.更多精彩文章及讨论，请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net
http://www.myfirsttime.com/ads/
例文
Larry
Sex = Male
Where it happened = tutor's apartment
Reference Number = 1446
My father is an educational psychology professor and his educational aspirations for me outstripped mine. Five weeks into my grade, my parents were informed I was flunking English. I had blown off all my themes and hadn't read any of my assignments. One of Dad's grad students had a theory on how to motivate sluggards like me and so he challenged her to tutor me.
The deal was that she would get the higher grade of her class work and my grade in English, plus $300 for her time if she would work with me three sessions a week. The course was on academic underachievers so it wasn't an unmitigated sellout, but the seemliness is dubious.
Christina's motivational techniques were without peer in the field of educational psychology. She picked me up from my school, took me to her apartment, and put it right on the line: Dad's course was a time eater and if I did my work, she could blow off Dad's course and still get a good grade. She would make it all worthwhile for me. I couldn't image what she might offer so she asked if I would like to learn all about sex. I wasn't interested in more reading and said so. Christina unhooked her bra, lifted her sweatshirt, and smiled.
I knew exactly what breasts were, being a connoisseur of certain periodicals all the way back to s of age, and Christina's were first rate. If you took two softballs and sliced off about a and glued them on your chest, you have a fair approximation of her shape and size. There was just the barest onset of gravitational distortion from absolute sphereness. The nips were square on, capable of passing the most stringent motor vehicle headlight test. What were beautiful about Christina's were the faint, fine blue veins that marbled her creamy skin. I reached out to grab, but Christina was too quick for me and down came her shirt as she stepped back, wagging her finger. "I think you and I can work something out," she said as she loaded me up with five chapters of Silas Marner to read and summarize in writing. She explained in detail the points I had to cover in my report and stated that the sessions were for two hours and no more: English first, "other" topics after. Those were abusively exorbitant terms but definitely worth pursuing for at least one session.
The higher the quality of my preparation, the less time we needed to squander on English. I was given lessons on caressing breasts and then on sucking nipples. Before long, she was giving me orgasms with her hand, giving me looks at her derriere with its cute dimples and ultimately looks at her holy of holies at ever decreasing distances. All I was allowed to touch were her gorgeous breasts and the actual sex was confined to her applying Vaseline to me which concluded most sessions. She was true to her word and actually made it a learning experience. Once she had a microscope set up and I could see my sperm in the clear drool before I was ever near ejaculating--a worthwhile lesson for any male who wishes to defer fatherhood. Another time she gave me a tour of the secrets within her lips with an explanation of the various parts. She let me watch when she peed. I got lessons on what girls are seeking as they get seduced and the classic turn-offs. She told me about her first time, her great times, her regretful times. She answered most any question I could think of and some were impertinently personal. I never, ever worked so hard on my English. Procrastination and sloth would get in the way of the most important thing in my life. I got an A-minus that semester and the minus was only because of the slow start.
Dad asked Christina to write up her methods as he awarded her fee and her A-minus. He also asked if she might continue for the semester for all my subjects. The offer was $750 and her grade would be linked to my grades again. She upped the ante to a six-hour independent study in which her only responsibility was to write a paper on her methods and being excused from his regular class which was a degree requirement.
I saw Christina three times a week as before, except I was to work harder and be rewarded accordingly. I got detailed lectures on internal male plumbing culminating in a prostate massage. She told me about menstruation and demonstrated the use of tampons. I got a lesson on all the fine points of using a condom which culminated in receiving oral sex. I got kissing lessons. I got lessons on how to give Christina orgasms with my fingers and later with my tongue. I learned how to use a vibrator on her. We took showers together.
I found transcending my previous week's school work would assert a corresponding challenge to her. I met her every command and expressed my longing. Christina finessed me. We put off the grand prize until my midterm reports. What I hadn't considered is that the students in trouble are at the front of the line for parent-teacher conferences and those who did well were at the end. My conference was the absolute last in the class. Though we didn't have an appointment that Tuesday, I rushed my grades to Christina and asked to get laid. Christina declined, telling me never to demand payment on an IOU from a lady. The next day she had me understand that our relationship couldn't last beyond the end of school and that parting would be sorrowful. She also invited me to come with he the following Saturday to see Arthur Miller's "The Crucible" that her boyfriend produced and directed for his term project at a college 80 miles away. I was to remain over night in somebody's dorm room. "Who knows?," she said, "Maybe the evening might be special or maybe another one will be." I wondered just how liberal her boyfriend was. She canceled our Friday session on short notice but the trip for the play was on.
I got laid on Saturday, May 12, 1990:15 p.m. It een hours of passion in her apartment, starting with an hour and a half of Cliff Notes (on guess what literary work). Christina didn't have a boyfriend. (Instead, she had an "arrangement" with a professor which now makes me wonder what other courses she blew off.) There also was no play but at least the other college actually did exist.
Christina correctly pointed out I had only so many "shots" and I might as well enjoy the preliminaries and make leisurely foreplay. I chose missionary for my first go and it was almost everything I hoped for. Christina was thoroughly slick and responsive when I entered her. My big disappointment was I didn't have more than a dozen strokes before I came, despite Christina's homework assignments to practice extending my masturbating sessions. Christina explained she put me off until an overnighter because, were it a weekday, it certainly would be a pity to have to run home now. She said, "Anyone who says all systems were AOK with the first launch is lying through his teeth." She called up for pizza to be delivered, we had a shower and ate supper.
Christina said it was her turn and suggested we do it on the floor with her on top. I gave her a lot of licking and when we got to it, she had a great time and so did I. I know she wasn't faking it because while a girl possibly could work her vaginal muscles as she makes frantic little squeaks, she simply can't turn on a whole body blush voluntarily. Several months ago, Christina assured me that my four-and-a-quarter inches would grow, (and it eventually did so.) When I commented on her blush, she reminded me of my size concerns and pointed out that while my equipment was still a tad small yet, splendid technique is what brought home the field goal. (In retrospect, the splendid technique was largely on her part, but the compliment delighted me.)
The and final act of this theater primeval started out doggie fashion. She had to arch her backside into the air as I was, uuum....short. While it was great for cosseting breasts, it made for obscene slurping noises. The cold air whistling past was not great either, so I rolled her on her back and I finished her off missionary style. That orgasm marks my transfiguration into a man. I can say no more.
In the afterglow, Christina extracted a promise to make my grade as good as this year. If I truly loved her, I would do this to safeguard our little secret. She could have asked for anything I possessed in those moments and she would have obtained it. The following week, she reminded me and held me to my promise. I gained a flash of comprehension concerning glamorous female espionage agents, gold diggers, and all other women on quests.
The next morning at dawn, we discussed existentialism vs "The Crucible" over coffee cake. We did her straddling me as I sat on a kitchen chair which gave her good penetration but it was all her show for the pacing.
After another shower, Christina got me into my fresh, ironed pajamas which she had steamed and set me to rolling around in them. Christina would have made a fine criminal the way she covered all the angles. Come to that, she was in fact a criminal because I was but I forgive her. I got home midmorning and I proceeded to recount the play and the discussion of its existential meaning.
I had just three more weeks of Christina before her finals were over. The fantastic sex only got better. She impressed upon me I had been provided with a "secret weapon" called education and I must wield it responsibly. I could likely score with any girl I chose but I must choose selectively. She also got a commitment that if the girl I go the distance, I use a condom each time, every time, pill or no pill--I have no excuse for "fucking up."
When I expressed regret with not getting laid sooner, Christina just smiled and said, "It wouldn't be as good if we skipped the preliminaries." The other reason I figured out years later was that Christina was playing a high-stakes game and she couldn't risk letting my interest fade. She did a masterful job of giving me a continuous escalation for almost eight months.
Dad called up all my teachers and learned I was getting straight A's which was something brand new for me so Christina got six credits of A for a
mediocre paper. He questioned me about Christina's tutoring methods because her paper was a disappointment. Fortunately, she gave me enough legit advice that Dad concluded that it was a case of talent over science. Dad rounded her fee up to $1000 because he was so pleased.
I was so in love with Christina. I was hoping for a one, last private good-bye on graduation day but her parents and older brother were there, so that was out of the question. A whispered, "I love you," in my ear and a pair of unwashed panties stuffed in my pocket kept me in unequivocal thralldom in absentia for a year, at least.
I still love Christina and I will love her forever. She did accomplish a permanent change in my life. She did teach me study skills and I found out doing well in school attracts the kind of girls I want to pleasure. My love life has been fantastic because Christina taught me deliberate and systematic lovemaking. I don't take every girl all the way, only those that are worth the investment. Every new girl is new and different and there is a learning curve no matter how many you have had before.
Someday I will tell Dad about Christina but not until the legal statute of limitations has run out.
Christina's methods have a far more solid theoretical basis than any of the novel approaches the education establishment is continually trotting out with magnificent fanfare. In my case, successful manipulation of basic brain stem control mechanisms which are copiously validated in the general professional literature of the established pedagogic practicum corpus was accomplished with concurrent shunting of maladaptive behavioral conditioning residing in cerebral cortex pathways stimulating a culturally prescriptive goal-oriented response to external didactic imperatives.
Sorry, Dad. I love you, but we're in different worlds.更多精彩文章及讨论，请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net