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Show 12 today, you're already getting better, and went in the house so I could trim shrubs in peace. * * * I worked a fiery pace after that cause Sister Hearthway insisted all my work be done before she'd instruct me in the smooching arts. I got a decent amount of practice that month and next. At that point if anyone would've asked who's my best friend, I'd said Noelle Hearthway. Sad, since I don't think she esteemed me the same. Once her babies were out like lights and all my chores complete she'd sit me on the livingroom sofa and straddle over me for the next lesson. Sometimes if I got too hot for her she'd have to put her knees on my wrists or hold my hands in hers since it was so indecent for me to touch her. We'd lie on the floor so nothing of us touched but for our mouths, the most delicious torture I ever knew. She taught me all the flavor and craft of fine necking. How not to put my tongue too far back in the mouth, but not to be feeble; confident, like dancing, a gentleman's got to take the lead but be sensitive, too. Linger, Sister Hearthway taught, caress the teeth with the tongue, and so forth. She was a diamond kisser, and I suppose I cleaned up nice enough. Sometimes we sat in her pristine car that smelled of fresh laundry and listened to raunchy rap music she'd stole, which she admitted to not liking but for the cuss words. Them were some of the best memories I got. But on occasions Sister Hearthway got so blue and moiirnful, my heart felt sick for her. One August Tuesday we were laughing and carrying on with stories of my |