Sex-Ed Daughter

by Lisa Smiles

Schneider Schools have an unorthodox approach to sex education that school teacher Gary is about to learn a lot more about. He's been asked to take one year out to travel the country as a sex ed instructor, with his 18yo daughter as his assistant. He's about to be drowning in schoolgirl pussy galore and his daughter's cream pies, fully paid for and supported from private school fees.

A 6000 word story.
Like any high school teacher and father Gary is an admirer of 18 year old girls. It's what makes him perfectly suited to working in the Schneider School system, where sex education is hands-on and in accordance with the writings of school founder Joseph Schneider. The Schneider Foundation has defeated countless charges against them in court so continue their c.1900 German tradition.
Gary is delighted to be selected as a sex-instructor, just shocked that the job will entail traveling the nation with his 18 year old daughter as his assistant. Why pair fathers with daughters? Why not just use models, nurses or actresses? It's to do with a quirk in teenage girls' psyches and the unique demands of being a Schneider School sex-ed instructor.


As we kiss for the second time ever I’m reminded of what I’ve been taught, that we shouldn’t be acting. We should be smelling and tasting. The science behind incest is quite fascinating really. We’re biologically programmed to like the taste of saliva that is genetically removed from our own. It’s all about the strength of the species in our war against microbes. In ancient times we would have preferred the taste of a girl from the other side of the mountain to the taste of a girl from our village. However, since sex has also served as a bond among immediate relatives, the taste of a daughter’s or sister’s saliva is the most intoxicating of all. I’m certainly getting it now.


The hardest thing about kissing my Sophie, especially as she starts getting into it too, is remembering we’re teaching a class here. I’ve never felt this before though. The kissing seems to be making her desperate and hungry for daddy. She’s pushing her lips hard against mine. The enormous stress of this occasion, that I know she’s been denying all week, has caught up with her finally. Now she’s clinging to me desperately for support. I can’t let her use sex as an escape though. There’s work to be done. I need to lay her face down on the mat, legs wide apart.

“Just relax baby,” I say. “You need to cool down.”

Among the tools I have set beside the gym mat in this classroom are a Dyson lamp that I train on her cunt and a huge magnifying glass on a stand that I position six inches back from the goo I’m about to reveal.

“Huddle close class. I would ask that you all masturbate yourselves while you watch. Just gently. We don’t want you to come.”

I break the seal of her lips to reveal the lubrication banking on the inside from our kissing. In the lamplight all the chicken giblets inside her are enlarged for my class to see in the magnifying glass, all of it swirling in milky girl cum.

Schneider wrote extensively about the Bartholin’s glands. For whatever reason, he was obsessed. So it’s my first job to locate the tiny pores either side of her canal and have the class witness the strands of white lube that leak from them. It will be like taking tourists on a safari and not seeing lions if I don’t manage to find this and it’s the first question on the student evaluation of teaching survey these students will be doing the moment they leave.

“There’s the right one,” I tell them, pushing all of her lovely pinkness off to that side. The daddy daughter thing means Sophie is squirting the stuff in pulsations I suppose are in time with her heartbeat–who knows. It’s a classic case of the mind saying no but the body just aching.


About the Author

In their physical details, taboo acts can sometimes be no different from boring old honeymoon love scenes, but that's not my main focus. What fascinates me are relational details, or the way girls do their makeup, or the way incest is bass jumping compared to other sex that's just cricket. Why is that? It's precisely because of the fear. In the arts that fear is called The Sublime. You might feel it in your chest when you read me.

Please, reach out to me however you can. I want to work with you to provide unique reading experiences and valuable products that you will store and return to again and again.

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