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Subject: {ASSM} New S-E-X <*> Jack (Nosex)
Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2000 06:10:02 -0500
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This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in
locations where it is legal.  If it is illegal in your location,
don't read it!  This work is copyrighted.  Reposting or any other
use is strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder.  E-mail me, I'll probably
give you permission.  I just want to know and control where it is
posted.  This story may be posted as part of a review or to the
ASSM archive.

My thanks to Expert Editor, Ruthie, for her editing and
suggestions.  Any errors you find are my fault not hers.

Tell me what you liked, or didn't like.  Please!

E-mail address:  tradesjackofall@hotmail.com

My stories can be found at my website:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades




S-E-X


"Hello, honey, I'm home," I called out to my wife as I came
through the garage door. There wasn't an answer, which usually
meant she was on the phone or in the bathroom. The bathroom door
was open, so she wasn't there. I walked into the kitchen to
search her out. She was stirring dinner in a pot, the phone
tucked under her ear. Looking out the kitchen window, I could see
our children playing in the yard.

"Thanks, Martha, I'll make sure Joe has a talk with him. See
you."

Uh-oh, that didn't sound good, I wonder who I'm going to be
having a talk with.

Sarah, my wife, pressed the button on the portable phone, and sat
it by the stove. She sighed. "Martha just told me your son was
caught passing a love note to a girl on the playground."

Billie was *my* son when he was in trouble, otherwise he was
ours. "Sarah, boys pass notes to girls all the time, it's not a
federal offense."

"No, it isn't, but you need to have a talk with him."

"I talk to him all the time. I'm NOT going to lecture him on the
evils of passing notes to girls on the playground."

She stopped stirring and turned around to look at me. She gave me
the look, the one that let me know how incredibly dense I could
be.

"What?" I said in defense from the look.

She shook her head. "You don't need to talk to him, you need to
have THE talk with him."

"Oh." Sarah turned back to preparing dinner as I stared out the
window at my son playing in the yard. They grow up so fast. At
three all he wanted was to be a Power Ranger, at four he was an
artist, five was an astronaut, six a scientist, seven a soldier,
eight an actor, nine a baseball player. Now he was ten and
apparently starting to explore the mystery of girls. My heart
went out to him. "When should I do it?" I asked.

"Soon, it doesn't have to be tonight, but soon. You need to find
a time when you can be alone with him, so you can talk. He's
going to have lots of questions."

"Okay," I said absent-mindedly as I thought about the time my Dad
had THE talk with me. I didn't have any questions then, I just
wanted it over with. The last thing I wanted to do was talk with
my dad about S-E-X. My friends knew more about it than he did
anyway, or so I thought back then. "I'm going to change."

"Okay, dear, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes."

I climbed the stairs and went to our room. As I changed I
recalled the events that led up to my Dad having THE talk with
me.

-----

"Joey and Becky, sitting in a tree, K, I, S, S, I, N, G, first
comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Becky pushing a baby
carriage," Caitlyn Sommers sang in a sing-song voice.

"I don't love her," I hissed at Caitlyn.

"Do too, else why would you give her the note?"

"What note?"

"The one you gave her at lunch, she showed me."

Nausea gripped me at the thought of Becky's betrayal. The note
was meant for her, not to be shared with her friends. It had
taken me two whole days to get up the nerve to write it. My hands
were sweaty, my face felt flushed. I looked over Caitlyn's head
at the object of my affections. Becky Miller was the prettiest
girl in my class. She had long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail
that hung to the middle of her back. I could see her making small
sidewise glances at me as Caitlyn talked to me.

"I have to play kickball," I said as I turned away from Caitlyn.
She stepped against me for a moment, I felt her hand slide into
my jacket and then slide out. Caitlyn smiled at me.

"Have fun," she said entirely too cheerfully as she went back to
Becky's group.

I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets as I walked over to my
friends who were getting together a game of kickball. My hand
closed around a folded up piece of paper. I pulled it out and
read it. "Becky, I like you, do you like me? Yes or No, Joe"
Becky had circled yes. I shoved the paper back in my pocket, a
smile a mile wide on my face. "Who are the captains?" I yelled to
my friends.

Kickball that afternoon was the most fun it had ever been. Nobody
could get me out as I pounded kick after kick deep in the
outfield. I dodged balls thrown at me and scored easily on each
kick. All too soon, the bell rang ending recess and we lined up
to go back to our classrooms.

"Mrs. Dyson, Mrs. Dyson" Sally King called out to our playground
monitor.

"What is it this time, Sally?" she asked with an exasperated
sigh.

Sally ran past me and handed Mrs. Dyson a note. "Somebody dropped
this on the playground." Sally turned toward me and stuck out her
tongue. It was all I could do to keep from yanking her pigtail
for being such a snot. Sally was always sticking her nose in
other people's business, but she had the nose for it. Everybody
teased her about her big nose. There were no holds barred in
fourth grade.

"Thank you, Sally. Now everyone stay in line, no pushing or
shoving, and walk back to your classroom." Mrs. Dyson said the
same thing every day. She was pretty cool for a playground
monitor though, she didn't get too upset if somebody got knocked
down, as long as there wasn't blood or anything. We went back to
our room, hung up our coats, and took our seats. Mrs. O'Nalley,
our teacher, started us on our math class. I daydreamed about
Becky while we practiced our times tables. She was so pretty, and
she liked me, that was unbelievably cool.

I was playing in the living room with my army men when Dad came
home. "Hiya, sport," he said as he tousled my hair on the way by.
He walked into the kitchen to find my Mom. I didn't have to see
it, he did the same thing every night. He would wrap her tightly
in his arms and give her a kiss. I heard the smack of their lips
the whole way in the living room. It was so gross. Would Becky
want me to do that now that she liked me? I hope not.

My parents were talking in the kitchen, I heard my name mentioned
and my ears pricked up. "You need to talk to your son about S-E-
X," my Mom told my Dad. I don't know why she spelled it. I had
learned how to spell clean back in the second grade. S-E-X
spelled sex, and I knew all about it, too. Jamie Winslow told all
of us about sex one afternoon on the playground. We didn't even
play kickball that day, just listened to what Jamie had to say. I
wonder if Dad knew anything about sex Jamie didn't? Naw, Jamie
had to know more, he told us how once he saw his older brother
and a girl having sex in the little shed out back of his house.
Jamie actually saw it, he must know more about sex than my Dad.

After dinner was over, I started on my homework in the dining
room. I was halfway through my math problems when Dad came in and
pulled up a chair beside me. He straddled the chair and sat on it
backwards, his big hands resting across the top, his chin resting
on the hands. "Can I talk to you for a bit, sport?" he asked.

"Sure, Dad."

"Son, what do you think about girls?"

"They're okay, except for Sally King, she's a snot."

"Uh-huh," Dad chuckled. "Your Mom tells me you were passing a
note to a girl on the playground today."

How did he know about that? How did Mom know? I was so
embarrassed I felt like my head was going to explode. Then it
occurred to me just whose note Sally King had given to Mrs.
Dyson. She and Mom were friends, that's how Mom found out. When I
see Sally tomorrow I'm going to punch her in her big fat nose, I
thought.

"It's okay, son, it's part of growing up. I used to pass notes on
the playground, too."

"You did?" I squeaked.

"Yep, but I didn't get caught. Still it doesn't matter. We need
to talk about girls... women... and sex."

I wanted to tell Dad I already knew all about it. I was
embarrassed enough. I didn't want to talk with my Dad about sex,
but something made me keep my mouth shut.

"Before we get to sex, there are two rules about women you
absolutely must follow. First, never, ever, no matter how much
you want to at the time, hit one. I don't care if she's hitting
you, or biting you, it doesn't matter, you never hit a woman.
It's okay to grab hold of her if she's hitting you, but as soon
as you can, you get away from her. If I EVER find out you hit a
woman, I don't care if I'm a hundred, I'll kick your ass. You
understand that rule?"

I nodded. I knew Dad was serious, I had never heard him say ass
before, but I knew what it was. Jamie had told us.

"Good. The second rule is, if a woman ever tells you no, or asks
you to stop, you do, no questions asked. Now there are some women
who will say no, and not mean it, but you can't know for sure
whether she does or doesn't. If a woman says no, you stop right
away, got it?

I didn't understand this one, but I nodded anyway just to get the
lecture over. I didn't understand until I was seventeen, in the
backseat of my parents' station wagon, and for the first time in
my life I was actually going to have sex with a woman, when Carly
Nichols said no. I stopped. I groaned about it, but I stopped.
Carly asked me why I stopped and I told her she said no. "But I
didn't mean it," she panted. God, was I glad she said that.

"Okay, now don't forget those rules. Now sex is..."

Dad described it in detail. Most of it agreed with what Jamie had
told us, but when Dad talked about it, it wasn't exciting, just
gross. By the time he was done, I never wanted to have sex in my
life. Yech.

"There's one more thing, then I'll let you get back to your
homework. You understand what I said about making a baby, right?"

I nodded, I didn't want to think about it.

"Anytime you stick your penis inside a woman there's a chance you
could make a baby. The best way not to make a baby until you're
ready is not to put your penis inside her, but as you get older
you'll want to do it. In fact it'll be pretty much all you'll
think about for a while," Dad chuckled. "Do you know what a
condom is?"

I shook my head.

"A rubber?"

I nodded. "Mom makes me wear them when it rains."

Dad chuckled again. "Well this sort of rubber isn't for your
shoes, it goes over your penis. It isn't completely safe, but if
you decide you want to put your penis inside a woman, but don't
want a baby, you need to wear one."

I didn't understand why I would wear one of those things on my
penis, but I was ready to agree to anything to get Dad to stop
talking about sex. "Okay," I said hoarsely.

"I think that about covers it," Dad said. "You're growing up on
me." He tousled my hair. "I'll let you get back to your homework.
If you have any questions about what we talked about, it'd be
best if you ask me. I'm not sure your mother would be comfortable
talking about it."

I didn't think so either, I knew I wasn't. Dad got up and left
and I finished my homework, watched some TV, and went to bed. I
never talked with my Dad about sex again, but in the backseat of
that station wagon, I figured out Jamie didn't know half as much
as my Dad. It took me until I was twenty-one before I figured out
my Dad was a pretty smart guy. I was thirty, before I could tell
him so.

-----

"Billie, I'm going over to Grandpop's to help him fix his porch,
you want to come along?

"Sure, Dad."

We climbed into the car, and started over to my parents. For
thirty minutes I had him all to myself. I had become my father.
It had worked for him, I hoped it would do the same for me.

"Son, what do you think about girls?"

END


--
Jack of all Trades

E-mail:  tradesjackofall@hotmail.com

My stories can be found at my website:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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