What happens when you agree to look after your neighbour’s teenage son for the Easter weekend? If you’re me, Lily Corbett, you end up spending three days teaching him everything his awkward fumbles at university never did. This is the filthiest, funniest, most shameless confession I’ve written yet. And yes, every detail is staying in.
I’m twenty-four. I’ve fucked my way across four continents. I’ve done things in Marrakech, Sydney, Berlin, and Los Angeles that would make your toes curl and your conscience question itself. I thought I’d exhausted the list of things that could surprise me. Then Felicity Thomas from Flat 14C asked me to keep an eye on her nineteen-year-old son Oliver whilst she visited her sister in Bristol over Easter weekend, and I discovered I had one more trick left to learn: I could be someone’s sexual awakening. I could be his Morocco.
Saturday morning, 11am. I go upstairs with coffee. Oliver opens the door looking like he wishes the floor would swallow him. I smell cum before I see the evidence. Fresh. Unmistakable. His laptop’s open on older-woman porn, the tissues are still warm, and he’s standing there in his joggers with his mortification written all over his face. Most people would’ve backed out of the room. I sat on the bed and asked him to show me what he’d been watching. And when I’d watched enough to understand exactly what he wanted, I told him I’d teach him properly. If he wanted.
He wanted.
What followed was three days of explicit, patient, step-by-step instruction in how to actually fuck someone who’s genuinely aroused rather than performing for a camera. I taught him to kiss without rushing. To touch without grabbing. To go down on a woman and actually pay attention to what her body’s telling him instead of copying what the algorithm says works. He made me come twice in the first lesson. By Sunday he was making me squirt, and his reaction—pure fascination, genuine enthusiasm, zero performance—was so rare I’m still thinking about it two years later.
We covered everything. Oral both ways. Riding him until he learned what real arousal feels like. Teaching him to fuck me properly: harder, deeper, longer, with his whole attention on my face and my sounds rather than some imaginary highlight reel in his head. I introduced breeding talk (I’m on the pill, it’s pure fantasy, but Christ it works on nineteen-year-old boys). I taught him anal—slow, patient, properly prepared, the way I wish someone had taught me at his age instead of just pinning me down and going for it. By Monday morning he’d gone from a boy who thought porn was a training manual to a man who understood that listening is the entire skill.
The phone call scene alone is worth the price of admission. Saturday afternoon, Felicity rings to check in. I answer. Oliver reads the situation, positions himself between my legs, and eats me out whilst I conduct a perfectly pleasant conversation with his mother about whether he’s eating properly and getting enough fresh air. I tell her he’s just finishing his lunch. He is. I come approximately four seconds after I hang up, screaming into my palm, and we both dissolve into hysterical laughter at the sheer audacity of it. Then we fuck urgently on my bed, still laughing, and it’s one of the best moments of the entire weekend.
Monday morning, April Fool’s Day, Felicity comes home refreshed and delighted. She thanks me for looking after her son, calls me “such a good girl,” tells me he seems so much more settled and confident. She has no idea why. She gives me a large Cadbury Easter egg as thanks. I accept it with a straight face, hug her, wave them both off, close my door, and laugh until I can’t breathe. The universe handed me the perfect punchline and I’m still dining out on it two years later.
This book is explicit. It is unapologetically filthy. It is also funny, warm, and surprisingly tender in places I didn’t expect. Oliver wasn’t a conquest. He was a student, and I was a teacher, and what I taught him will serve him well for the rest of his life. I gave him what someone gave me in Morocco when I was nineteen: the understanding that sex can be extraordinary when both people are actually present. I’m proud of that. I’d do it again. I have zero regrets.
If you’re here for the wank material, it delivers. Forty thousand words of detailed, explicit, instructional sex across a long weekend. Oral, vaginal, anal, squirting, creampies, the works. If you’re here for the comedy, the phone call scene and the Easter egg payoff will not disappoint. If you’re here because you like my voice—Northern, shameless, self-aware, dirty as hell—you already know what you’re getting.
This is Lily’s Easter Lesson. I corrupted my neighbour’s son whilst his mum thought I was feeding him pasta. It was the best teaching I’ve ever done. Welcome to the weekend that proved I’m absolutely going to hell, and I’m completely fine with that.
Lily Corbett x
Published 29th May 2026 on Amazon eBook, and free to read on Kindle Unlimited. UK AMAZON | USA AMAZON | CANADA AMAZON | AUSTRALIA AMAZON
Trigger Warnings
Content Warning: This book contains material some readers may find confronting.
- Explicit sexual content throughout (vaginal, oral, anal)
- Age gap relationship (19/24, all participants legal adults)
- First-time sexual scenarios with detailed instruction
- Neighbour taboo and breach of parental trust (comedic framing)
- Breeding fantasy dirty talk (contraception used, fantasy only)
- Anal sex introduction with detailed preparation
- Squirting and bodily fluids described explicitly
- Phone call scene during sexual act (comedy, no participant awareness)
- Strong language and profanity throughout
- British English spelling and colloquialisms
