Moms Teen Blowjob

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Moms Teen Blowjob
Fri., April 24, 2009 timer 3 min. read
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Middle-class Canadian girls are giving oral sex after school to pay for sweaters and handbags.
Worlds away from the poverty, neglect and drug abuse that are the hallmarks of prostitution, teenagers who appear bright and well- adjusted are prostituting themselves without batting an eyelash.
According to independent filmmaker Sharlene Azam's documentary and book, Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss , the normalization of oral sex as an acceptable teenage activity has led vulnerable girls to use it as a way of becoming socially accepted.
For some in Azam's film, this ultimately leads to payment for sex because, after all, if they are doing it anyway, why not get paid for it?
Azam, 38, a former columnist for the Toronto Star , interviewed Canadian girls (and their parents) who had been discovered by school officials to be involved in sexual activity with groups of boys, as well as girls charged by police. This includes a prostitution ring at an Edmonton high school.
Parents, she says, were not paying close enough attention to their daughters.
Azam is married, with a 3-year-old daughter, and splits her time between Los Angeles and Vancouver.
Q: What sparked this documentary and book?
A: I was at a high school in Burnaby, B.C., researching sexual attitudes for a film I was working on when I was asked to talk to the students in the Flex Program. The Flex kids have been out of school for various problems. In that class, I met a lovely blond girl with perfect makeup and a Louis Vuitton bag who seemed completely out of place. I asked the teacher about her and was told that she had been recruited by a girl at school and trafficked to a small town where she was kept in a motel. That was the beginning of my research into teenage recruiters and the middle-class girls they target. This was a new kind of predator.
Q: You were able to get parental permission to film the girls who were under age. How?
A: Getting the releases was not difficult because the parents wanted to talk about this. There is no forum for them. There is no counselling. There is no social group for a mother whose teenage daughter is having sex with five men a night. The difficulty ... is for the mothers to finally take responsibility for what has happened to their daughters.
The girls were okay talking about giving oral sex to a number of boys – they didn't stumble with the words or appear shy or ashamed. The reason they speak about it unflinchingly is because it has become as benign and as acceptable as kissing. This is what our culture has become. Think back to the '80s when girls would blush when talking about their first kiss. We are way past that point with blowjobs. The real question is, "What's next?"
Q: A lot has been written about rainbow oral sex parties. What do the girls get out of it sexually?
A: I think Heather, 16, explains it best. "I began to associate my own personal power with giving a man pleasure. I liked hearing them make noises because it made me feel powerful to be able to affect someone in that way. I didn't know I had so much power."
Q: Has feminism failed young girls?
A: We failed our girls. What's happened to our girls? We have let Girls Gone Wild and the media culture define them.
Q: What is the boys' role in all of this? Did any of them have to deal with the consequences?
A: It is important to remember that the responsibility lies with parents, teachers and adults. Your question suggests that another adolescent should take responsibility for what is happening. Boys are downloading pornography on their cellphones. This is how they are learning how they are supposed to treat girls.
A: It is not as much a lesson as it is a warning. Who is going to save our girls? You asked me about feminism. I interviewed Gloria Steinem, who was a voice for women. Who is the voice for our girls? Is it the media? Is it boys' opinions of them? Is it the negative images of themselves that they've created from advertising imagery?
The book is available through thenewgoodnightkiss.com. The film aired on European television last year to an estimated 1 million-plus viewers.
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I knew this day would come as I had been warned by those who had gone before me.He's going to ask someday. She's going to have questions. You need to get your story straight.
Jun 14, 2016, 04:53 PM EDT | Updated Jun 15, 2017
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I knew this day would come as I had been warned by those who had gone before me.
You need to get your story straight. You have to be *prepared* because you'll be caught with your pants down when the kids ask about the specifics of sex.
And, in a dark car, on the way home from dinner, it happened: my son and I had a whopper of a conversation.
While I've mostly recovered from the trauma, my friends are still reeling from the advice I gave him.
The evening started out innocently enough. After attending an event as a family, Hubby and I decided to take the kids out for dinner at one of our favorite watering holes (read: drink martinis as the kids consumed large quantities of fried foods and dessert). We spent that time talking to each other, visiting with friends who'd also gone to the restaurant and joking with our favorite bartender. It was a picture perfect moment: warm sweaters, noisy atmosphere, a family smiling together. I had no way of knowing that my son had questions brimming and he'd decided he was going to get some answers on the way home.
As we had taken two cars,my son opted to ride home with me. I should have seen this as a SIGN, people. Of what, I don't know, but I should have seen SOMETHING coming.
Once in the car, and about two seconds after I navigated the car away from the curb, he dropped a bomb on me: there was a sexting scandal at school and he was upset.
Let me repeat that: MY TWELVE YEAR OLD WAS UPSET ABOUT A SEXTING INCIDENT. Twelve. As in, they don't even have the word "teen" in their ages yet, bitchachos.
Pardon me as I try not to drive this people mover right into a tree.
While he was not involved (THANKYOUSWEETBABYJESUS), he was upset about the consequences, the children involved and the general implications that this kind of thing brings. He wondered what would happen if he received salacious texts, who he should tell, why kids would do such a thing. Heavy topics weighed on his mind and he wanted to talk about all of it. WITH ME. As I was driving heavy machinery. In the dark. Without Hubby as a back up.
I'm not going to lie: I was caught with my pants down and I swear, the deer we passed on the road did not look nearly as surprised as I did when I was driving.
But, I made a choice to keep driving, to take the longest way home possible because my tween was talking, openly talking to me about sex. I didn't know when, or if, this situation would ever present itself again. I don't know if it was the dark, country roads I slowly drove, the fact that we weren't facing each other or if the stars just magically aligned to make him open up, but it happened.
As we quieted from the sexting discussion, he coyly and shyly said, "I have one more question" and the tone of his voice made me realize I needed to brace myself.
"Well. You know. Some of the boys, they talk about this thing that involves blowing. And work. Blow work, is it? Something that is like a job and involves blowing. I don't know what that means. Can you explain that to me?".
I'M NOT GOING TO SURVIVE THE TEEN YEARS, YOU GUYS.
Here I was, in a car, being asked a specific question about a sex act from my twelve year old. In the split seconds that followed his question, I debated: do I tell him? Do I push it aside and tell him that's for grown ups? Do I pull over on the side of the road and call Hubby to take over? How hard will I have to junk punch Hubby when I get home? I honestly didn't know what to do and, as I gripped the steering wheel and tried to keep myself from driving into a cornfield, I made a decision.
I told him. I was honest and forthright. And, then it was HIM wearing the deer in the headlights expression.
As the reality of the answer set in, and, realizing these moments with tweens are fleeting, I took it one step further: I told him a committed relationship is a two way street and when you are intimate with someone, it's never one sided. If he's alone with a girl, it's to be enjoyable for both of them and it's never okay to let a girl please him solely.
I told him that if you get one, you give one. Plain and simple. Because no daughter in law of mine is going to stand in my kitchen and wonder why he's such a greedy asshole in the bedroom.
And, judging from the looks of horror on my friends' faces as I've recounted this story, I seem to be in the minority when it comes talking openly with kids about sex. I've been accused of condoning pre marital sex. I've been told I crossed a line by explaining the specifics of a sex act to my child. And, I've been told that I'm asking for trouble by telling him that his eventual girlfriend's needs are important, too. Mostly, my friends have cry laughed at the image of me driving down the street being asked about knob polishing. And, naturally, they all asked how soon I'd be blogging about my drive from hell....
But, for all the judgement, all the shocked outcry, I stand by what I told my son. I stand by my honesty and I hope, that in doing so, I've set the stage for him to want to come back to ask questions, to get good, solid answers from his father and I. And, in that moment, he trusted me with his thoughts and was open and honest with me. The least I could do was be honest right back.
Because if you get it, you give it, people.
Christine Burke is a blogger and freelance writer. Her personal blog is keeperofthefruitloops.com and she can be found on Facebook . Her latest book, "I Just Want To Be Perfect" is available on Amazon.

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Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
It was my last year at camp I was in the oldest age group (around 15 years old) who were CITS. Feeling like the man, I figured that continuing the fling that I had the summer before camp isn't a great idea, and that I should try to hook up with the younger chicks. Seemed like a great idea at the time. It wasn't. I pretty much wasted all summer hooking up with better looking younger chicks instead of going for the sure thing.
Fast forward to the last night of camp. Banquet. For all that don't know, they bring everyone into the dining hall, and serve us a grease riddled meal of some chicken that when you cut it open, drips melted butter. How they got the butter into this piece of shit chicken still boggles my mind. Now it's "Camp Dance" time, but I am too old for DJ Jazzy Jeff. After flirting with my old fling from the year before, we decide, it's time to rekindle the fire.
We leave the indoor basketball court, and head for my bunk. Open the door, and it's my buddy and another camper girl, no room for us. We then trek 15 minutes down to the CIT Lounge, open the door, my buddy and his girl, no room for us. We head to the counselor lounge, start making out, only to get caught by some counselors, and told to leave. My dream of getting my first BJ is decreasing by the second. My girl says she is tired, and it's not worth it, I say, let's try one more place.
So the smart 15 year old kid I am, we walk to the back of camp, where all the old school buses sit. These school buses are practically rotting, they haven't been used in years. I open the door, and lift my girl into the school bus. Things are getting hot, and my pants are halfway off and ITS FINALLY HAPPENING. Only then, we hear a car drive by, with people yelling in Russian(the maintenance people). My girl looks up says, "This is really really sketchy and creepy, take me home". After 5 solid minutes of trying to convince her that this rotting school bus "is the perfect place for this right now" she gets up, gets dressed and we walk back to the dance.
So to wrap it up, after wasting 45 minutes finding a perfect place, I get my first ever (half) BJ in the back of a rotting old school bus. It was the best day of my life.
It's my freshman year of college. After having a few at a pregame, some friends and I head out to the local bar. Once there, I quickly spot a girl on the dance floor who I had hooked up with a few times. I walk over, we dance and, shortly thereafter, we begin making out.
Fast forward 30 minutes and we're back at my dorm. I unlock my room and we're both ready to get going. There's only one problem: As soon as I opened the door, the smell of shit hit our nostrils. I turn to her, give her a "I don't know what that smell is, but I'm sorry" look, turn on the lights and find that my roommate (who had also gone out that night and wasn't in the room at this point) had taken a big, big dump right in the middle of the floor.
This isn't some nice, clean log, either. This is a stinky smear, some really smelly shit ground into the carpet.
After spending about one second investigating, I turn to the girl and say something along the lines of, "Oh my God, my roommate shit on the floor." We step back into the hallway and I ask her if we could go back to her place. Unfortunately, her roommate is there and we can't. Bummer. Being a gentleman, I offer to walk her back, figuring I could at least make out a little bit more on the way to her place. Surprisingly, she refuses my offer, saying that we can stay in my room, shit on the floor and all. I think I laughed in her face, asked her if she was serious and, after finding out that she was, decided that it might not be the worst idea. I mean, if I was gonna sleep in there, I might as well have some company, right?
Before we get down to business, though, I have to find my roommate and tell him that I need the room for the night. I heard the shower going, so I stepped into the bathroom (which is completely destroyed – shit stains on the sinks and hand dryers, toilet paper everywhere, poop smeared all over both stalls) ask my roommate if he pooped in the room (he groaned in response) and then if I could have the place for the night (another groan – All clear!). So I head back in there with the girl, my roommate grabs some stuff and clears out, the girl and I proceed to get naked and – of course – I can't get it up. Spend about 30 minutes drunkenly eating her out/trying to wake up the little guy but nothing worked. We ended up passing out in the poop room pretty quickly thereafter.
After the girl left the next morning, I go out into the common area to wake up my roommate so he can clean up the room. He doesn't know what happened, but gladly cleans everything up. After laughing about it with him for a while, I decide to hit the shower (not the one he was in the night before), only to find that my shower sandals had shit all over them. Turns out he had shit on those and wiped his ass with the sleeve of my dress shirts. Great stuff. I packed a bag and stayed at a friend's dorm for the next 3 nights. Still friends with the roommate though, actually ended up living in the same building as him all four years of college.
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When I was in college at UW-Madison, I went to visit my best friend for Halloween weekend at UC-Boulder. I'd broken up with my first serious boyfriend several months before and was just starting to feel fully healed, so I decided that that weekend would be an excellent weekend to meet a cute guy and see what transpired.
My best friend, Stephanie, had a group of friends in Boulder that I was pleased to discover were fairly normal people. Dressed as a sheep, I made my way out to the bars with them and began to drink heavily, as I did in those days. I had my eyes on a good-looking guy dressed as Tyler Durden whose name now escapes me. He and I had some interesting political discussions (this was mere days before the 2004 presidential elections), but I blew it when I got too drunk, things weren't happening, and I declared to him and everyone else within earshot, "I'm gonna hook up with someone tonight!" Fail #1.
I began to flirt with another guy, who was dressed as a Domino's delivery man and whose name I do indeed remember: Bob. Bob was unusually tall and I am somewhat unusually short, but we hit it off and by the time someone (I hope whoever it was wasn't too drunk) drove us all home, Bob and I were snuggling in the car and then on the couch of my best friend's living room. We finally made our way up to the bedroom of one of Stephanie's absent roommates to make out. And make out we did! It felt awesome — I hadn't had a romantic or sexual experience of any kind for almost a year. After about half an hour, though, Bob stopped me. He proceeded to tell me that he was "religious" and that what we were doing (making out while fully clothed) was against his religion. My impatient atheist self was speechless and annoyed. I rolled over and went to sleep. Fail #2.
A couple of hours later, I was awoken by Bob getting up to use the bathroom. When he came back to bed he started touching me and trying to make out with me again! I figured, what the hell, this is a drunken hookup a
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