Katya was an intense, striking beauty. “Fuck me in the mouth,” she said. “And this time don’t pull away. I want to taste your come.”

Looking back, it’s hard to believe that at one time in my life, oral sex was a mysterious activity, something spoken of in hushed tones, like some sort of secret ritual only the elite in society were allowed to participate in. It’s even harder for me to believe that it wasn’t until I was in graduate school that I had my first proper experience with oral sex. Sure, I’d had dates who had tentatively licked and sucked at my erection, but I had never had a real blowjob. And I had never pleasured a woman orally. It took an Englishwoman to teach me how.

I’ve always been a great fan of British literature and decided to work toward my doctorate in English itself. Once on the “sceptered isle,” I studied Shakespeare, Milton and Coleridge at the hallowed halls of a fine old institution of learning. In between I explored London to sample the female delicacies the United Kingdom had to offer. After all, I was twenty-two and from a small town. I’d had various sexual affairs in college, but I was sure there was still much more to learn. I thought the “birds” in London would have all the answers. In actuality, I didn’t need to look past the walls of the school yard.

Lysette was a whiz kid, an academic superstar. Only twenty-four, she already had her doctorate and was a first-year faculty member of the English-lit staff. Her specialty was the Victorian novel, and it showed in her attire. Invariably she would dress in high-collared blouses, ankle-length skirts and high-button shoes. She was an ethereal beauty with her alabaster complexion, her stunningly pale blue eyes and her fragile, bird-like frame-she looked like Tess of the D’Urbervilles or Jane Eyre come to life.

Because Lysette taught only under-graduates, I was not enrolled in any of her classes. I didn’t get to see her often, so I stole a glance at her whenever I could. I held my breath when I saw her walk down the hallway. Her gait was so graceful that she seemed to float. It wasn’t until a departmental social gathering that I was able to introduce myself to her.

“Ah, yes, hello, Mr. Elliot.” Her voice was just barely above a whisper. Her hand felt as delicate as a butterfly’s wing as it shook mine. I looked, or rather fell, into her shimmering blue eyes, and my imagination hurtled forward. I wanted to be Heathcliff to her Cathy. “You’re an American, I understand.” I said yes, and she giggled a bit.

“Do Americans amuse you?” I asked. “Sometimes,” she said, looking away. ’Tm very fond of Americans.”

We spent much of the party together, chatting and flirting. She was interested in my humble origins, and I wanted to know everything about her as well. Like me, she had spent her childhood on a farm, so we had much in common, including a growing desire for each other. This was apparent when she asked me to come to dinner the following night. It was blatantly obvious when, while we were enjoying coffee in her flat after

dinner, Lysette’s delicate hand found its way between my legs and firmly gripped my bulge. I let out a soft sigh of exultation as her feather-light touch caressed my burgeoning cock, which was straining against the front of my trousers.

Slowly, painstakingly, she lowered my zipper. In a matter of seconds, my erection was in the open air. Lysette stroked it a bit, then leaned down to give the head a little lick. She then looked up at me, her beautiful eyes full of wonder, and asked me in a tiny voice to please remove all of my clothing. I couldn’t believe it. Here was this gossamery woman, seemingly a model of chastity, asking me to get naked while holding my aching cock in her hands.

Once I was naked, she spread my legs apart and began a deliciously wonderful massaging of my cock. Her hands slowly caressed the shaft, my balls and the area between my cock and my asshole. Her mouth was mere inches from the head of my cock, so close that her hot breath made my cock ache in anticipation. Eventually her tongue returned to my flesh, licking the head and sliding down the shaft.

Lysette now focused her attention on the underside of the tip, a patch of skin I hadn’t realized was so sensitive. Her pointed little tongue zeroed in on it and sent me into orbit. Then, just as soon as it had begun, she stopped and began sucking my balls. Apparently she knew all the spots that drive men mad, for her tongue presently began dabbing at a spot on the bottom of my sac, between my testicles. Once again I was moaning in appreciation.

Lysette looked up at me while rubbing my cock against her cheek. ’Tm going to suck you now,” she said. “When you come, don’t pull away. I want to swallow you up.” I wasn’t about to argue. She slowly lowered her lips down my shaft, drawing me into her hot mouth centimeter by centimeter. I had the urge to close my eyes and throw my head back in ecstasy, but I resisted so that I could watch this terribly erotic yet incongruous scene: this porcelainlike woman with her mouth stuffed full of hard cock.

This madness, this sweet madness, continued for several minutes. Each time I felt the come stirring in my balls, Lysette would let up and resumed her licking and caressing. After ten minutes had passed, I thought I would never recover, as she had staved off three potential orgasms. Sweat was pouring down my face, and my hands were clutching the sofa so hard that my knuckles were white. At last she decided it was time. The swooping motion of her mouth picked up speed, and her tongue and lips tightened their hold on my cock, which was practically numb from all the attention it had received. I was dizzy with excitement and could feel the orgasm form within me. Lysette decided to push me over the edge by inserting a finger in my asshole. She pushed it in all the way and gave it a little twirl.

That was all I needed. I felt as though a darn had burst somewhere inside me. I shot spurt after spurt of semen into her mouth, and she was up to the challenge, not letting a drop of it spill from her Lips. When I was through ejaculating, she lightly caressed my stomach and raised her head. With merriment in her eyes, she opened her mouth, revealing my semen on her tongue. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed.

Lysette stood and held out her hand to me. I took it in mine and she led me to her bed. She slowly and silently removed her clothing. I sat on the bed, and my cock rose once more, reflecting my admiration for her superb body. Her breasts were small, with large nipples encircled by dark areolas that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. She lay down on the bed and spread her legs, her toes digging into the plush down comforter. “I want you to eat my pussy, Sean,” she said.

I felt comfortable enough with her to tell her the truth. “I’ve never done this before,” I said, my eyes riveted to the succulent pink lips poking through her soft brown pubic bush.

“That’s all right, I’ll teach you,” she said. Then she laughed a little. “I’m an excellent teacher, you know.”

I embraced her, and we kissed, her tongue hot in my mouth. I had never before felt such rapture from kissing. I closed my eyes and felt as though I were falling down a deep tunnel, spinning and twisting, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. My reverie was interrupted by her hands gently insisting that I move my lips to her breasts. Once there, I nuzzled and kissed them, finally taking the nipples in my mouth and sucking for all I was worth. Lysette was making small squeaks, murmurs and groans of pleasure.

“Now my cunny,” she encouraged me, using the charmingly archaic British term for her garden of delight. “Eat my pretty cunny.”

I lowered my head between her legs, smelling the wafts of desire flowing from her cunt. I thought it smelled better than any bouquet of roses. Then, according to her gentle instructions, I began to titillate her with my tongue.

“Just sort of gently rub your nose and mouth over the entire area, barely touching me.” I did as she bade me, eliciting cries indicating I was doing well. “God, yes! That’s right. Tease me!” After a few minutes of the slightest possible contact, I hesitantly applied my tongue to her labia, lapping lightly at the fleshy folds. “That’s good, Sean. Nip them with your teeth. Pull on them a bit.” I did so and discovered that her lips were quite long when stretched. Then Lysette told me to get my fingers involved. I softly tapped one index finger against her clit, then slid it down her slit and into her moist cavern. “Oh, that’s heaven, my dear,” she cooed. “Now suck on my clitoris while finger-fucking me.”

I got into a position in which I could do this comfortably and went to work. I quickly learned the ins-and-outs, so to speak, of cunnilingus. I changed my pace frequently, speeding up the motions of my finger and tongue to bring her near to explosion, then backing off. I also took a page from Lysette’s book by sliding my finger out of her pussy and into her rosy asshole. “Oh, you’re quite inventive,” Lysette said. But seconds later she couldn’t say anything, could only moan in ecstasy as I brought her to a hip-bucking orgasm. My tongue flicked furiously against her swollen clitoris, and my finger sank all the way into her clenching anus. Her hands had a finn grip on my head, and her thighs flattened my ears. I was in a state of bliss.

Thus began a marvelous year of study in England. Lysette and I had a beautiful affair, and I learned many things from her about both books and sex. Though her outward appearance and demeanor were demure and refined, in bed she was a hungry wildcat and had many tricks up her sleeve.

I earned my degree and spent a few years traveling the Continent, having several delightful love affairs along the way. I was able to put to use the things I had learned from Lysette. A few years ago, I returned to the land of my youth, the northern Great Plains. I had secured a job as a professor in a small college in the Black Hills. It wasn’t Harvard or Yale, but I was quite content teaching literature in such a calm, idyllic setting. Of all my students, my favorite was Katya, a hard-working girl who was eager to learn. I could tell that Katya was fond of me as well, for she was always interested in hearing about my stay in Europe. Katya was a girl who had never traveled much, yet wanted to see the whole world. Clearly out of her element, she was a flamboyant kid with a cosmopolitan outlook, but she was trapped in a small town.

She tried to distance herself from the mundane aspects of Middle America by wearing outlandish, punk-style outfits and wearing her hair in outrageous fashion. When she graduated she had it dyed raven black and wore it in a Louise Brooks-sty le pageboy. The other girls looked upon her as an oddball, and the boys didn’t know what to think. There was no doubt Katya was a striking beauty, but she was so different from the other kids that she found few understanding friends.

She was a loner, and I, the worldly professor, became her confidant. She would frequently visit me during my office hours, which spilled over to many lunch dates. While she was my student, we engaged in no intimate contact, although she did flirt with me on occasion. When she graduated, she planned, she’d go to New York City and become a rock-and-roll star. I wished her luck and assumed that I would never see her again.

One day in July, I was in my office, grading papers from a summer course. There was a knock on the door. It was Katya. “I thought you’d be a star by now,” I told her. She told me that she had thought it over and decided she wasn’t quite ready to just drop everything and move far away. She was very confused about what she should do.

“You know so much about life and junk like that,” she said. “Teach me stuff.”

“Like what? I could tell you a few good places to eat in New York,” I joked. But she wasn’t laughing. Instead she sat in my lap and gave me a kiss. It wasn’t a great kiss technique-wise-certainly she was no Lysette. But she was someone who had kept her feelings in check, and the kiss was such a hungry one and had such intensity that my heart skipped a beat.

“I want you to teach me about sex,” Katya said. “I’ve never really done much. A little fooling around is all. And since I’m not your student anymore, and I’m pretty sure you’re kind of hot for me, I thought you might like to be my instructor.” Now she smiled. I sat there, with a beautiful girl sitting in my lap and with my cock as hard as oak, and I thought, she’s right. She’s twenty-two and no longer a student. And I was hot for her. I had denied it out of propriety, but now I could admit it to myself. I was crazy about her.

“I’d be glad to help,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. We arranged to meet at my house that night. I live in a cabin deep in the woods, and by the time Katya had arrived, night had fallen.

The moon was full and there was a gentle breeze that made the pine trees sway against each other, creating a haunting whisper that sounded like the ancient murmurs of passionately entwined lovers from days gone by. It was an exquisitely perfect evening for a romantic encounter.

Katya and I had a few glasses of wine as I listened to her tell about her sexual past. There had been only a few heated assignations in the back seats of cars. She was not a virgin, but none of her “little flings,” as she called them, had been satisfying for her. I then told her about Lysette and about how at one time I had been sexually naive. Katya listened with fascination. I then asked her if she had ’ever had oral sex.

“I once knew a guy who wanted me to blow him, but my heart wasn’t in it. I really didn’t have the first idea of what to do,” she said.

“Has any guy ever done that to you?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes and blushed scarlet. “I’ve heard about that, but I don’t think you’ll find any guy around here who’d be willing to do it.”

I set down my wineglass and took her hand. “Come with me,” I whispered and led her into my bedroom. Katya stood by the bed, as still as a statue, while I slowly removed her clothing, kissing her flesh as it became exposed. Finally she was left in only her panties and boots. I sat her down on the bed and pulled the boots off. I then took one of her feet in my hand and kissed every bit of it, sucking each toe. Katya lay there in a trance, her eyes a mile wide and her breathing very shallow. Finally she let herself go, exhaled a rush of air and fell back on the bed.

I took my time and tongued my way up her legs, sucking and licking and biting as much skin as I could reach. When I arrived at the juncture of her legs, I found that her panties were damp with her juices. I stuck my nose into her fruit and inhaled, savoring the sharp, pungent odor of her youthful excitement. I then peeled her underwear off and quickly resettled myself between her legs. When I touched the tip of my tongue to her throbbing clitoris, it was as though she had been struck by lightning. She bent her legs with her knees thrusting upward. Her back arched, raising her ass up off the bed. Katya’s hands became fists, and she slammed them into the mattress. Before I commenced feasting on her sopping pussy, I looked up at her face, which was contorted in anticipation.

I ate her lovingly, bringing her to two orgasms. The first came mere moments after I started, her thighs nearly crushing my head as she cried out with joy. I kept at it, though, licking her right through her climax and causing her to thrash about and toss her head from side to side. She finally calmed down, but she reached yet another orgasm, which was much quieter than the first. I then took her in my arms and held her close, and we both drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to find Katya sitting up in bed, gingerly running her fingers over the crotch of my pants. “I’ve never seen one before-at least, not in the light,” she said shyly. I stood and removed my clothing. The thought of showing Katya her first glimpse of my manhood made me hard in seconds. I then lay down on my back as she kneeled beside me.

“Go ahead and touch if you want,” I encouraged her. She reached out to my straining cock and traced a small circle on the tip. I groaned a bit, and, pleased with my response, she continued to stroke me. I reached over to caress one of her pear-shaped breasts, tweaking the nipple. Eventually she took my cock firmly in her hand and began to jerk me off. I was enjoying this immensely, but I sensed she was ready for the next step.

“Would you like to put it in your mouth?” I asked.

Katya looked at me, a bit startled. Then she looked back at my blood-engorged spike and nodded her head affirmatively. I suggested she begin by just licking the head, getting a taste of it. She took my suggestion and ran her tongue across the head, which sent sparks up my cock and balls. Then, with no warning, she put my cock in her mouth and began sucking. Her technique was a little rough, but she knew all the basics of a good blowjob. I gave her a few pointers and then relaxed and enjoyed the exquisite sensations.

Because I had held back for so long, I had a short fuse and was ready to come after only a few minutes of stimulation. I didn’t want to spurt in her mouth during her first time, so I told her to take my cock out of her mouth and go back to jerking me off. When I came, a torrent of white cream shot high into the air. Katya watched my ejaculation with much delight, trying to catch my cascading drops with her tongue. It was a beautifully erotic scene.

We lay together for a while, cuddling, and then she jumped up and said she wanted to do it again. My cock and I were willing, so this time I stood and had her get on her knees. She sucked me with great gusto, and at one point stopped and said, “Fuck me in the mouth, and this time don’t pull away. I want to taste your come.”

Katya was certainly a quick learner, and I was happy to oblige. She gagged a bit when I shot a stream of come down her throat, but she gamely swallowed it all. Then we once again fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Our relationship lasted the rest of the summer. Once autumn came, Katya felt ready to leave her hometown. At first she wrote a letter every week, but, with time, they’ve trailed off. The last I heard from her, she had gotten a job in New York and was doing well. I knew that she would meet a guy and dazzle him with her newfound talents, perhaps teaching him a thing or two. I would be a pleasant memory, as Lysette is to me. And that’s how it should be. The teacher passing knowledge along to the pupil: It’s a tradition as old as recorded time.