Let’s Talk about Sex

“You seem like an eager beaver,” Mom remarked as I left for school.

I laced up my shoes and got up. “Yeah, well… lots to learn and all.”

“Have fun at school,” Mom said, waving at the door. When she stood there smiling, I felt warmth and comfort. I took her for granted. The guy in the video seemed to show affection to that girl he knew by “kissing” or planting his lips on a woman, or so it seemed. All those songs kept talking about it too.

I walked to Mom and bent my head forward, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She looked startled and said, “W-what was that?”

“It’s called a kiss, mom. It’s my way of showing respect and love to you,” I said.

“Love?” Mom asked, befuddled. The word love seemed so funny to use. People loved chocolate. They loved hot baths. Did they love people?

I sighed. She didn’t get it. She needed to listen to the songs to understand it.

“I’ll see you,” I waved. Mom was touching her wet lips and then looking at her fingers in confusion as I left.

I had walked the path to the woods where I usually went for my shortcut. There was a line of miners there and a roadblock. A sign showed: “Construction Ahead.” I asked one of the dead-eyed looking workers what was going on, and he replied, “Closed, Kid. We’re filling in some sinkholes.”

Well… It looks like they’ll find the little secret room I found. Oh well. I had the prize I wanted. I went the straight route to school, walking on the cracked concrete sidewalk to a long stretch of swamplands towards the school.

In English class, I paid close attention to the discussion of our reading of To Kill a Mockingbird. I realized Tom Robinson, the black man, in the story, did something (or was accused of doing something) that appeared to be shameful to the white woman, Mayella Ewell. It made more sense. The kind of shame I felt when I stood over my mother. It couldn’t be just a mugging. Maybe he did some type of unwanted “fuck" or “sex” with a white woman, allegedly. That would make more sense that he committed a capital crime. It was like I was getting a clearer picture, something was altered in the story or repressed.

Today's schedule was shifted so that the Science class would come before lunch and after English. At the same time, Music and Arts would replace Physical Education in the last class.

In science class, Ms. Rita Fleming explained the finer details of the reproduction cycle. Ms. Fleming lectured that the female sample of DNA would meet the male sample of the DNA and fuse. I paid attention carefully. Something about the text communication between Jill and Adam set something off to me. They were having a baby. She called it “our” baby.” Jill and Adam met, and they had a baby by accident. But that’s not how it worked in our world. Babys were determined by the Institute.

I listened carefully to Ms. Fleming’s explanation, but she left out so many details. Still, there was one jarring thing or hole in her explanation. The whole process of reproduction required technology that didn’t always exist: gestation pods, nutrient tubes, monitoring stations. How in tarnation did they reproduce when humans were still living in mud huts? How did long-extinct animals do it?

I was fixated by the lesson but also noticed what a “babe” my science teacher was. She looked different from the others around here. For one, she had long midnight color hair that she tied in a ponytail. She also wore black-rimmed spectacles and sported a little beauty mark on her upper lip. Her face was also different. It seemed Eurasian somehow with hints of features of the orient. Her eyes were almond-shaped with pools of emerald sat above a small button nose. I had started noticing how pretty a lot of girls and teachers were in school. I looked around, but none of the guys seemed that interested in women. Why didn’t they see what I was seeing? Was it the same for the girls? Did they not see anything special about the boys in the class?

“Remember to read Chapter 4. Next class, we will be talking about nutrition… think about it while you fill your bodies with nutrients during lunch, guys,” Ms. Fleming adds in her usual perky, cheerful glee as the class shuffled to the break. Ms. Fleming turns to me. “Mr.Dalton. My, you were certainly attentive today. Have I instilled the wonder of science into you? Am I getting through to you yet, huh?”

“Uhh… something like that. Look, I had a question, but I was afraid of sounding stupid in front of the whole class…”

“You know what I say about stupid questions, Mr. Dalton.” Ms. Fleming raised a finger.

“Yeah yeah… there are no stupid questions. Look umm… you said for humans to reproduce, we needed to gather DNA from a man and a woman, and the Institute fuzes them… afterward, the fertilized embryos go into a gestation pod…”

“You’ve been paying attention, young man. Maybe we are getting through to you,” Ms. Fleming smiles proudly.

“Uhh sure. Anyways… those things. How did we do it before we got those technologies? Gestations pods and stuff… I mean, like reproducing,” I asked.

“Ahh… that question has been plaguing us scientists for years. Some theorized that women use to lay eggs like the birds of the old age, and others theorize that humans may have reproduced asexually.” Ms. Fleming adjusted her glasses.

“What would the point of the men be then? How would they… inject their DNA to the female,” I asked.

“Again, Mr. Dalton. All great questions, but we still have no idea. It’s one of those questions which may never be explained like what is the meaning of life or how the universe was created,” Ms. Fleming answered. Ms. Fleming noticing my mind in deep thought, said, “I suppose you have a theory?”

I can’t tell her about the device. No way. She’ll confiscate or report it to the Institute.

“Sex…” I said.

“Sex?”

“It’s… I think that’s what the ancients did. They engaged in something called sex or fuck.”

“Oh?” Ms. Fleming was curious. “What is this sex or fuck?”

“I don’t know… maybe the guy inserts his DNA directly into the woman and fertilizes the egg that way?”

Ms. Fleming rubbed her chin, “That is an interesting theory…”

“I thought maybe the man does with his penis or tongue. They transfer their DNA that way?” I suggested.

Ms. Fleming made a disgusted face, “Are you implying that the man… urinates into the woman.”

“No…” I said. I didn’t know what I was implying, I just knew that either a penis or tongue was involved. Something about the “blowjob” and the missing sex act. I was missing a couple of pieces to the puzzle.

“Urine or saliva wouldn’t have the DNA material possible for the male-female fusion that creates a fertilized embryo,” Ms. Fleming explained. “You see, Mr. Dalton, the DNA sample from the woman, is extracted deep inside the woman.”

“Where exactly? How do they extract it?”

“They sedate the female patient, extract the DNA from their uterus with advanced technology. I believe a tube goes up the vagina of a woman, and they use a suction device. For a man, they sedate him as well, but the technique is different and highly secret.” Ms. Fleming explained. “You’ll have to ask the Institute for more.”

“What if… a penis can extract a different type of liquid depending on the situation that wasn’t urine, but that held the DNA needed for fusion. And what if… they can join together?” I asked.

Ms. Fleming chuckled at the idea. I reddened, feeling stupid.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I’ll show you instead,” Ms. Fleming said. Ms. Fleming had a long blue dress on which she proceeded to hike up. I was startled but realized… why should I be? Being nude and showing off your naked body isn’t something Ms. Fleming would reprimand me for. Still… I felt a twitch in between my groin.

Ms. Fleming’s panties hung off one of her ankles as she sat on the desk in front of me with her legs spread wide open. The spot between her legs sported a tidy bush of black hair and a nice pair of pink lips underneath. The sight worked the same butterflies in my stomach.

“See for yourself, Mr. Dalton,” Ms. Fleming adjusted her glasses again and reached down to spread her pussy.

I examined her hole with interest, which she points to and says, “See. Now, this is where that tiny needle device would go deep inside to extract my DNA sample for the fusion fertilization process. I want you to reach for your penis or your tongue and see if you can get it in there.”

“Are you sure…” Why was I even asking? Ms. Fleming didn’t have the same type of shame I was just exposed to. For her, her pussy was not a mark of shame. It was just an extension of her body, like her legs or hands.

“Remember what we learned about the scientific method, Mr. Dalton. You have a hypothesis, now let’s experiment, shall we?” Ms. Fleming beamed. She was always a hands-on teacher.

I looked around, feeling bashful. After unbuckling my belt, I lifted my chubby cock over my pants and held it out. I reddened there, feeling the same sense a bit of shame. Ms. Fleming was still smiling and had her legs wide.

“Go on, Mr. Dalton. See what happens when you try to inject your DNA as you hypothesized.” Ms. Fleming said.

I was panting hard, and she noticed, “Mr. Dalton. Are you quite, alright? Do you need to see the nurse?”

“Yeah, just… a bit winded today.”

I came forward, shuffling my hips toward Ms. Fleming. She stared down intently watching as I poked the chubby thing called my penis towards her vagina. She smiled as the weak piece of flesh smashed against it. I couldn’t get hard like in the video. Something was blocking me. I know it.

“As you can see, Mr. Dalton. There would simply be no way for you to enter deep into me and inject your DNA,” Ms. Fleming said.

I despaired and pulled my pants back up after a few more crashes into her, the flub of meat just smashing and not being able to enter her tight hole.

“What if… it was swollen hard? My penis, I mean.” I asked, buckling my pants as Ms. Fleming pulled up her panties.

“Mr. Dalton, if it was swollen hard, I would say go see a doctor. That might be serious.” Ms. Fleming laughed while straightening her dress.

“But…” The video showed the guy with a hard swollen cock. I know it could get hard, at least the Ancient males could get it hard. “If I could get mine hard like that, then maybe… “It would be possible?”

Ms. Fleming tapped her cheeks and thought about it. It was great she wasn’t dismissive of my ridiculous theories. “I suppose so. Though it would be a tight fit and possibly hurt.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Ms. Fleming,” I said and bowed to leave.

A beaming, Ms. Fleming, clasped her hands excitedly, “It is certainly my pleasure, Mr.Dalton. If you ever do solve the problem, please don’t hesitate to come. I will be glad to assist you in your experiment.”

“Thanks…” I said glumly. I had to figure out how to get it hard or why I couldn’t get it hard like the guy was in the video.