And one day she sat me down and gave me this huge medial book. in it she had marked out the section on the female genital. “I want you to go home ...and read this section, start to finish and when you have we’ll have a chat” To say I was embarrassed was an understatement. I was a bloke - I knew everything!But I did as asked and went home and read the section. It was very mater of fact, anatomical and came with pictures and diagrams. And yes I learned a lot. So after a few re-reads and a. Make her dream about me. I came up with a plan. The plan was to ask about her ex-boyfriend. To know how great he was, the things he did. And the ‘making-out’ part was of my interest. I started asking a simple bland question ‘So how was your first kiss with him?’ And she was like, ‘Buddy, I miss kissing, at times I lick my lips thinking about him. But he has moved on, far away; no one to hug me, no one to tickle me, and no one to love me’. I never knew this topic would turn into an emotional. ” I rummaged through the desk to find a pair of headphones. There they were.Hands free, I resumed our conversation. “A dusty John Grisham novel from Kevin's law school days. The movie was better.” Lying on the daybed, I returned my right hand to my warm mound, the left to circle my puffy areola.“That’s an uncommon opinion,” he croaked.“I'm an uncommon human being.” I squeezed my thighs, creating friction on my clit.“According to whom?”“What are you doing?”He murmured, “Enjoying a moment of. And he loved me, he was just too young to accept the responsibility. So I had you and moved to this city so I could try to get a job, make a home, and raise you without a stigma. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you the truth, so I had to have an explanation that sounded acceptable. Sometimes the fabric of life is made out of cotton and when we can’t handle it, we refashion as silk. It’s still cotton, but we call it silk for our own comfort. ‘It was summer, the summer after my freshman year in.