When I was a high school student, a scrawny, horny lad of 17, I was a student at Central High School in beautiful, Scranton, Pennsylvania. On the first day of school, our English teacher, Ms. Klitmann, gave us the following assignment. We were to write a fictional account of the most interesting thing we had done all summer. I went home and lay in bed thinking about the problem. Thinking did no good so I meditated. Meditation did no good so I masturbated. Ah! I came up with nothing (except semen), but at least I felt better.

I decided that, since the assignment was to write a fictional account of a summer experience, like, say, helping a neighbor or cutting your foot off with the lawnmower, I decided to recount a true experience as if it were made up. You see fair reader, and fairy readers, I had had a most excellent introduction by an older woman, a veritable voluptuous vixen, to the art of cunnilingus. (Some people say cunnilingus is an art, I say it is a science.) I now know that cunnilingus is a fancy way of saying “eating pussy.” I could never admit in class that it actually happened to me, but I thought naively, I could present it as a work of fiction.

Thus, dear reader, I submit this work to you, for you perusal and reading pleasure. If you have too much pleasure, well, just wipe up with a tissue.

What follows below (below the waist, that is) is my class presentation in English Composition class, 11^th grade, for Ms. Klitmann’s class.

But first I must note that after I turned in a rough draft to Ms. Klitmann, she announced that she wanted me to stay after class to discuss my paper. I stayed back and met privately with Ms. Klitmann. She was an authoritarian type, I think of German extraction. She spoke quite technically and abstractly about my piece. She was wearing a conservative white blouse. In closer proximity, I could see the shadow of her bra behind the sheer fabric. During her rather technical soliloquy about my paper, I noticed that she was pointing to my sentences with the eraser end of her pencil. Then, as she continued to talk, I noticed that she had moved her pencil away from my paper and I was shocked to see that she was, apparently unconsciously, pressing the eraser on her tight slacks right in the area of her clitoris. When she would look at my paper, I would glance down to the pencil and try to see what she was doing with it. At one point she was actually putting rhythmic pressure on her clitoris. I started to feel rather warm, but I had no idea whether she was intentionally trying to do this is my presence. When I spoke about the paper, I touched her knee, hoping that it would make things more overt. The resolution to this situation will be revealed in my next essay. It will take some time for me to put it on paper because the level of eroticism and excitement is still somewhat overwhelming to me.

So here is my essay about my experience after my junior year:

“My Summer Vacation”

By S. Horovitch

“Well, this summer I was spending most of my time hanging out, listening to music, mowing lawns and goofing around on the Internet. It seemed to be a pretty typical summer for me, a pretty typical 17 year old in a pretty typical suburban area. One evening I was walking the dog as usual. Just as the dog hunched over to shit, with his usual hard on, I hear this female voice say, “wow, he’s producing a long one from two ends.” I never knew why dogs sometimes get hard-ons when they shit, but I’ll leave that for another essay. I looked up and saw this beautiful Hispanic lady, maybe in her late 20s. She seemed to be bursting out of her jeans and her sweater. I tried not to stare at her breasts so as not to offend her. (Later she told me that she had noticed me looking. Oh well.)