"Rachel, I'm coming." Finn whispers into her ear as he grips onto the headboard of his bed. His whole body shakes, and a single drop of sweat falls from his chest onto Rachel's. He snuggles into her shoulder, inhaling her scent.
Rachel sighs, looking at her clock. 6:04 PM. Just enough time to make it home for dinner. "Walk me to the door?" she asks, shrugging Finn off her. He stumbles around his room to put on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, and leads her to the door. He gives her a salty, sweaty kiss goodbye, and she can't get away fast enough.
The next morning, before class, she knocks on Ms. Pillsbury's door.
"Come in, Rachel." Ms. Pillsbury states quietly without looking up. Rachel takes a seat in the cold leather chair across from Ms. Pillsbury's desk, and bites her lip nervously.
"Ms. Pillsbury, I have a question." She finally offers.
"Yes, dear?" Ms. Pillsbury half-asks, her big eyes looking directly into Rachel's.
"Well, Finn and I have been sexually active for a while now, and I think I might be doing something wrong. I have yet to have a full-fledged orgasm from penetration alone, and I feel that-"
Emma cut her off. "I'm sorry, Rachel, can you slow down a touch. You and Finn are... are having sex?"
"Yes. And he's had several orgasms but I-"
"Rachel, are you sure that you two are emotionally prepared for this? You've had a lot of ups and downs in the past year."
Rachel stands up in a huff. "Honestly, Ms. Pillsbury. If I wanted to be lectured at, I would go to my dads. I need some serious sexual advice." She storms out of the door.
On the way to class, she spots Santana leaned up against a locker, texting someone. "Santana!" she calls out, rushing up next to the taller girl.
Santana rolls her eyes. "What do you want, Hobbit?"
"I have a sexual inquiry."
"A sex question."
"Hold on, hold on. Since when are you and Sasquatch knocking boots?"
Rachel wrinkles her nose. "Maybe two weeks? That's the thing, though. Finn is really enjoying himself, and I have yet to have an orgasm. Am I doing something wrong?"
Santana instantly bursts out into laughter. "First of all, Rainbow Brite, no one calls it an orgasm. It's a climax or cumming or a big O. Secondly, the only reason you're not cumming is because Finn is because he's about as in tune to a woman's needs as a manatee. A male manatee."
"So you don't think I'm doing anything wrong?"
"Knowing you, probably. The only way to ensure a good sexy time is by banging an older man. I mean way older. We're talking upper-twenties to mid-thirties."
Somehow, Rachel still doesn't feel much better. She shuffles to History class, and pulls her phone out under her desk. She finds the N's on her contacts, and sends a short text. "How do I know if I'm a bad sex partner?" She types.
Before she can grab a pen from her back, she gets a response. "Noah" pops up next to a small yellow picture of an envelope. "u want me 2 take care of u babe? i can cum ovr 2nite" Rachel sighs and tries to take notes.
In English class, she takes a seat next to Kurt. They furiously take notes as the teacher goes over the finer details of Hamlet. She scribbles down a note. "How do I know if I'm not satisfying Finn sexually?" it reads. She slips it under his notebook, and he immediately writes back.
"Finn's sexually selfish. Don't ask me how I know, I just know."
She gives Kurt a look, and he raises one eyebrow at her. Both quickly look away and go back to taking notes.
That afternoon, after Glee practice, she knocks on Mr. Schuester's doorframe, watching him grade papers. He looks up and sees her, slumped against the wall.
"What's up, Rachel?" He asks, worry in his eyes.
"Mr. Schue, can I ask a... some personal advice?" She sighs, slumping into a desk chair.
"But of course. You know I'm here for you. What's the problem."
"So you two are... together again?" He begins twirling a pen between two fingers.
"Very much. The thing is, we've been together this time. Like, together-together."
"Rachel, I'm not sure that I understand."
"We had sex, Mr. Schue. And it was bad. So bad."
"How was it bad?"
Rachel fiddles with a hanging thread on her plaid skirt. "I don't know. I expected it to be beautiful and romantic and perfect. And it was nice, but... I don't know." She gets up to start leaving, but he stops her with a wave of his hand.
"Rachel, please don't go. I know this is uncomfortable, but you need an adult to talk to about these things. I'm glad you've chosen me to talk to."
She sits back down, crossing her legs tightly. "It's just... Finn seems to enjoy himself. A lot. And I'm glad I can do that to him, but... yeah. I just don't know if I'm doing it right."
"Why is that?"
She buries her face in her hands. A red flush spreads from her forehead down to her shoulders. "I haven't, you know, had a climax from it. Oh, god, am I a total freak?" She looks up at him with a teardrop running down her cheek.
Mr. Schuester stands up and perches himself on the edge of his desk, next to her chair. He coos to her, pressing a hand onto her knee. "Rachel, I'm sure you're not doing anything wrong. You're young, this is all new to you."
"Are you sure? Because it sure feels like I am."
Rachel uncrosses her legs and leans against the back of her chair. "Prove it."
"I'm sorry?" Mr. Schue stands up and takes a step back.
"I can't tell if I'm a poor sex partner without having someone give me advice."
"Can't... can't you just talk to Finn?" Mr. Schue looks down at the floor.
Rachel laughs. "You and I both know that Finn isn't a big talker." She stands up and brings her body close to Mr. Schue's... so close he can feel the heat of her body.
"Rachel," he gulps. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Just think of it as a science experiment." She whispers into his ear.
"I don't teach science." He tries to say, but her lips cover his so quickly that the words can't get out. She kicks the door closed and pushes his back onto the desk. With quick, angry movements, she undoes his belt buckle and fly. She pulls his pants down to his hips and sees the the bulge threatening to burst out of his boxer-briefs. She leans her face next to his erection, and breathes hot air onto it.
"Fuck, Rachel." Mr. Schue moans as she traces the outline of his cock through his underwear.
"You were saying something?" She laughs.
"This is so wrong."
"Is it though?" she asks, grabbing his shaft through the black fabric.
"Just fuck me." He groans, and she is only too happy to fulfill his wishes. She folds the elastic of his underwear down, freeing his erection. She crawls over his body, and rubs herself against his member.
"You're so wet." He murmurs, feeling her wetness through her panties. She giggles, using his dick to push them aside. He gasps, and she pushes him inside of her. His back arches. Her hips grind into him. He lets out a deep groan from somewhere in his chest. She moves her hips in circles, letting him hit every place inside her. He grabs hold of her hips and pulls her closer to him. She leans back, and he looks up to see her skirt pulled up, and her neatly-trimmed bush peeking out. The sight is too much- he flips her onto her back and pulls her shirt and bra up over her pert breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth and flicks the pink tip with his tongue.
"Fuck," she groans, her hips jerking wildly. "Mr. Schue, fuck me." He teases her clit with two fingers, and suddenly her body begins so shake. She barely manages to whisper a "fuck" before her head is thrown back and she comes hard. He kisses her neck and quietly finishes himself off.
She lays breathing heavily for a moment, watching as Mr. Schue tucks himself back into his pants. "Well, do you have your answer now?" He asks, looking at a stain on the ceiling.
"Yep. It's definitely not me." She says, twirling a strand of hair.
"No it is not." He laughs.