Anatomy lesson

Anatomy Lesson

This was back in the days before the internet. I was in the eighth grade. The school year was nearing its end, and my final grades were shaping up to be pretty good, with one exception: anatomy. My anatomy grade was borderline, and I desperately needed to get an A. The only way to do that was through a report, and the choice of topics was limited. More precisely, there was only one topic: "Human Reproduction." No one wanted to take that topic, but I had to do it, amid the numerous smirks of my classmates.

In the evening, I started preparing the report. Surrounded by a textbook and two encyclopedias, I sat at the table for about two hours, horrified to realize I couldn't really memorize anything because I didn't understand what I was studying. The thing was, many of the words were unfamiliar to me, and the book illustrations were drawn in such a way that I could barely make out the image of the male organ, and even then, I had to compare it with the original several times, not to mention the strange drawing of the female genitalia. At that time, I had only seen naked women in paintings at museums and my younger sister, and even then, only when she was an infant. And the little I had seen didn't match the textbook data at all. My mood was approaching panic.

At that moment, my mom came into the room and hinted that it was time to finish my homework and go to bed. We lived with my mom and sister in a two-room apartment (my dad had divorced my mom three years earlier); my sister and I shared one room, and the other was my mom's room. Since my little sister was already asleep, I was doing my homework in my mom's room. Sighing heavily, I started gathering my books. Noticing my mood, my mom asked what was wrong. I explained as best I could that I couldn't prepare the report because I had no idea what I was supposed to talk about. "Maybe it's not so bad?" she asked. "Let me quiz you on the textbook questions." For the next fifteen minutes, we did just that: my mom asked questions, and I, red as a lobster, answered as best I could.

No miracle happened. I managed to coherently explain the male anatomy, but when the questions turned to female organs and especially the fertilization process, I mumbled a few incoherent phrases and fell silent. There were about 10 hours left before the report was due, and the year's A in anatomy was becoming more and more elusive.

My mom got a thoughtful look. It was hard to tell from her expression what she was thinking, but it was clear an idea had occurred to her. I also got the feeling she was struggling to decide on something.

"Alright," she said, "I'll help you, but first go take a shower." Puzzled by her words, I went to wash up.

Coming out of the bathroom, I saw that my mom had already changed into her nightgown and unfolded the sofa, which seemed strange to me—she usually slept with it made up.

Seeing me, my mom stood up and said, "Son, it's usually not done to appear naked in front of close relatives, but your desire to excel in your studies is important to me. Now I'll show you on myself what you didn't understand from the textbook. But you need to get in the right mindset and remember, this is just homework preparation."

I didn't answer, just swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. My mom lay down on the sofa. Lifting her nightgown to her stomach, she slowly spread her legs.

My heart started pounding rapidly, my breathing became heavy. In my underwear, the organ whose structure I had been studying all evening instantly swelled. All the muscles in my body felt strangely tense.

My mom, forcing a smile, said, "I see you're uncomfortable. I'm embarrassed too, but you must agree, stopping now would be silly. Take the textbook and compare the names of the body parts with what you see."

Taking the book, I conscientiously tried to read the names, but my thoughts were tangled and scattered. My mom watched my attempts to concentrate for a minute. "I was afraid of this," she said. "Of what?" I asked, struggling to form the words. "That the sight of a naked woman would arouse you, and you wouldn't be able to think clearly." I didn't answer.

Sighing, she said, "Get undressed." I stood next to the sofa, trying to understand what she wanted from me. She repeated, "Get undressed, get undressed." I took off the robe I had come out of the shower in, leaving only my underwear. I felt awkward and folded my hands just below my waist, trying to cover the treacherously protruding member.

My mom sat on the sofa next to me. Taking my hands, she spread them apart. Then she decisively pulled my underwear down. I froze there with my hands raised, trying not to look at my mom. My member was at the level of my mom's eyes. My ears were burning.

"You've grown up," my mom said sadly. "I remember you a bit differently." After that, she cupped my member in her palm and started moving her hand along it. It didn't last long. After three or four strokes, I realized I couldn't hold back. I barely understood what happened. It felt very pleasant. A jet of some fluid shot out of my member at high speed. Trying to cover it, I felt something hot and sticky. I won't say I hadn't encountered this fluid before, but previously it had only appeared during sleep.

"Well, son, you've just experienced the process of ejaculation. What your member released is called sperm." I looked carefully at my hand. The sight of the sperm didn't impress me much, but I began to realize I felt lighter and my thoughts were clearing up. My member was still erect, but the tension was gone. "It's just that you've gotten my shirt all dirty."

I looked at my mom; her shirt around the chest area was all stained with my sperm.

"Don't worry," she said, "it'll wash out easily. Go wash your hands, and we'll continue. It's getting late."

I washed my hands and returned to the room. My mom was lying on the sofa again, legs spread. I looked around for my underwear. Noticing my glance, my mom smiled and said, "Put your robe on, I see you're embarrassed." I quickly followed my mom's instruction.

The learning process became easier. I could now quite calmly locate the unfamiliar parts of the female body on my mom and even began to understand the textbook diagrams. Then, my mom, pointing at herself with her finger, asked me for the names. In about ten minutes, I learned what I had been struggling with for the last three hours.

"Learned everything?" my mom asked. I was confused. The textbook mentioned a few more things I was embarrassed to ask about. "What's wrong?" my mom frowned. "The encyclopedia talks about breastfeeding, and..." I fell silent. "And...?" my mom asked again. "About vaginal secretion and sexual intercourse." My mom thoughtfully rubbed her forehead. "Breastfeeding isn't a big problem," she said, then sat up and took off her shirt completely.

I stared at my mom's breasts, realizing the tension was returning. My mom took my palm and showed me where milk is secreted, making me touch the nipple. After that, the tension only increased, and my member under the robe began to rise again. "Remembered?" I nodded.

My mom, without getting dressed, lay down again and spread her legs. "Extend your index finger and touch the lower part of the vagina." I did so. "Now push it forward and move it back and forth a little." I did everything as my mom asked; it turned out the vagina was much deeper than I had initially thought. "Feel it?" "What?" I didn't understand. "Feel the fluid that lets your finger slide easily? That's the secretion."

Only then did I notice the moisture on my finger. "Well, that's enough," my mom laughed. "Is this sufficient?"

"What about sexual intercourse?" I blurted out, immediately regretting it. My face was burning. My mom sat up and looked me straight in the eyes. "Usually, this isn't done between a son and mother, but since it's come to this..."

My mom stood up and opened the linen closet. Rummaging through the linens with her hand, she pulled something out. It was a condom. I had seen them at school—we used to fill them with water and throw them at the wall—but I had never seriously thought about what they were for.

Opening it, my mom handed it to me and asked me to put it on. It wasn't so simple; I fumbled with it for a couple of minutes under my mom's timid smile.

When I managed with the condom, I froze in indecision. As always, my mom came to the rescue again. She got on all fours. It was a revelation to me that the vagina was visible from this position too. My member was hard.

"Insert it," my mom said. I awkwardly started poking with my member. "Not there," my mom said and, without looking, took my member in her palm and inserted it into herself. The emotions I experienced are indescribable. "Hold onto my hips." I did so. "Now move your member back and forth. That's sexual intercourse, or having sex. You can hold my breasts; it's customary during sex." Leaning over, I touched my mom's breasts; she was breathing heavily. I felt like I was about to come again. "Mom...!" I groaned. My mom understood me. "Don't be afraid," she said with interrupted breath. "The condom will protect me from fertilization."

A couple of seconds later, I came inside my mom and froze. It was very pleasant and shameful, awkward and something else. I got off the sofa. The condom came off easily from my softened member. My mom was lying on her side, looking at me thoughtfully. "Ready for the report?" she asked. "Yes," I lowered my eyes. "Then go, wash up, and go to sleep. Don't tell anyone about our preparation." "And try to forget about it yourself, but only after you've given your answer," she smiled. I went to take a shower.

The next day, amid the giggles of my classmates, I went to the blackboard. I spoke clearly and confidently, so much so that the teacher had to interrupt me, saying I was telling more than the curriculum required, all while giving me a strange look. My classmates also sensed something was off; they kept smiling, but more out of inertia.

I got an A in anatomy for the year. For a while, it was awkward for my mom and me to be alone together. But then everything returned to normal. We didn't recall this story for about three years, until one day Yulia (my younger sister) came into the room where my mom and I were watching TV and, with tears in her eyes, declared that she couldn't understand the topic "Human Reproduction." My mom and I exchanged glances and laughed.