If you were to ask me who my favorite teacher was I’d have to say it was Mrs. Hargraves. That’s because she was the one who asked me to tutor Lori Hutchinson in Algebra.
I was a senior and a geek. I wasn’t a jock, nor was I popular. I wasn’t particularly good looking and I hadn’t dated more than once or twice my whole high school career.
That’s because those dates were nightmares. I didn’t know what to say, or where to go or what to do. One girl actually told me she was bored and wanted to go home.
So I hit the books instead and got straight A’s. Mrs. Hargraves used me in her class as a student aide, which was fine because that set me apart from the rest of the students. I got along fine with them in that role, but, leave the room or go to another class with them, and I was lost.
So one day Mrs. Hargraves said, “Mark, would you be interested in making a few bucks as a math tutor?” I said, “sure,” and the first student she set me up with was Lori.
I was immediately terrified.
Lori was a junior, and she was everything I was not. She was drop dead gorgeous, with honey blond hair she often wore in a pony tail. I fantasized about her breasts regularly, and dreamed about going to the pool and seeing her in a bikini. She had blue eyes and was popular with a capital P. Strangely, I usually saw her with a gaggle of other cute girls, and did not remember seeing her hanging onto a guy, like many of the other girls I also fantasized about. I found out why later.
Every guy in school was aiming for her, and I knew I was the last guy in school she would ever even look at.
Our first meeting was horrible. We met in the library after school one day. I was tongue tied, and couldn’t look at her without blushing and stammering. I had been thinking some pretty sexy things about her and I just knew that if I looked her in the eye she would know and be grossed out.
“So you’re going to teach me about Algebra?” she said in the most beautiful voice I had ever heard.
“Uhh, yeah,” I responded lamely.
“Well you have your work cut out for you, ‘cause I suck at math,” she said matter-of-factly.
I blushed. She said “suck” and I immediately thought of what kind of sucking I wished she would do to me.
“So ... when do we start?” she asked.
I snuck a glance. She was looking at me with a funny look on her face. I looked away immediately.
“Well ... Uh ... I need to ... ummm ... find out ... uh ... what you know.” Great! I sounded like some kind of dufus.
“Okay, shoot,” she said. She talked to me like I was a normal person. How could this be?
So I began asking her questions and giving her problems to do. I got interested immediately, because it soon became clear that she was smart, but had had poor instruction in the past. Or maybe she hadn’t paid attention or something. She knew about half of the things she needed to know to get anywhere. In the process of doing this I quit stuttering. Now we were on my turf, and I felt more confident when we were talking math.
Over the next month or so I met with her every other day. I began explaining to her what she had missed along the way, inserting formulae corrections into her work and teaching her things she had apparently never heard. I loved these sessions, because she had her attention on the paper in front of her, which allowed me to look at her.
And man did I look.
She was a knockout. She wore nice clothes all the time, and sometimes I swear she wasn’t wearing a bra. I saw points on the tips of her breasts and I made myself believe they were her nipples. I stared at her lips too. They were full and a little pouty most of the time. But when she “got it” she smiled and her whole face lit up. I spent major amounts of our time together with a rock hard dick, and couldn’t stand up to talk to her at all. So I sat across from her most of the time.
One Monday, after our session was done, Lori said, “Mark, I have a tennis lesson Wednesday. Could we meet a little later than usual?”
“Uh, sure ... I guess so.” I always stuttered when we weren’t talking about math. “But I ... um think the school will be ... um closed by then.”
“Oh,” she said brightly. “That’s okay, you can just come over to my house and we’ll do it there.”
She said, “Do it there,” and my prick sprang to attention. I flushed red. I also knew I’d have a new fantasy to beat off to that night.
“Um ... okay ... sure,” I managed to stammer out.
So the following Wednesday found me at her house. Her parents were rich. It was a nice house.
A maid let me in, for pity’s sake. I was taken to the back of the house where there was a private library. After I picked up my jaw off the floor I settled in, examining the books on the shelves, most of which were classics and which I had read. There was a rolltop desk along one wall, and a couch along another, with several chairs scattered around. I heard the door open and turned around.
Lori was wearing white, of course, a very short skirt with a loose top. She was a little damp with sweat and was breathing hard. Those breasts of hers were repeatedly poking out toward me as she tried to catch her breath.
“Sorry I’m late,” she huffed. “Charles worked me hard and I wanted to get my net game up to par.”
I just stood there. She was so beautiful I just hurt all over. There was this long pause and I snuck a look at her. She was staring right at me, and she had that funny look on her face again - kind of a puzzled look.
She finally broke the silence. “Are you okay?”
“Uh ... sure ... ummm ... let’s get started.” I wanted to crawl in a crack and never come out.
“Well, there’s no table in here, but I can use the desk,” she chirped.
So there I was, standing behind her, leaning over her shoulder as she worked on the stuff we were covering, and her loose top was hanging open, and she was braless.
They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Her breasts were milky white, and at the tips there were light pink areolas. Her nipples were a little bit darker, and they stuck out about half an inch.
I stared and stared.
I have no idea what I was saying to her, but it must have made sense to her because she was working a problem and making corrections based on whatever I was saying. I must have been on autopilot, because I was not thinking about math.
I actually drooled on the desk. I realized it was going to happen, but couldn’t do anything about it.
So my spittle hit the desk, and she looked up.
It was obvious where I was looking, and that I had been looking for a while, and that I had drooled on the desk while looking there.
I was mortified. Her hand slapped up off the desk and pushed her shirt against her breasts.
I stumbled backward, and promptly tripped over the edge of a rug. As I fell backward I remembered seeing a chair back there somewhere, and then my head hit something really hard and everything went black.
Imagine this scene: This guy (creep?) who you just caught staring down your top has fallen down and cracked his head on a chair. He appears to be unconscious and is flat on his back. He’s as limp as a noodle. Well almost. There is one part of him that is not limp. It is making a tent in the front of his pants. A rather large tent, now that you think about it. But then you realize he could be really hurt, and you ignore the bulge and look to see if he’s bleeding on the rather expensive Persian carpet.
I found out later that’s sort of what happened, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I came to with a cold cloth across my eyes. It all came back in a rush. I willed myself to just die right then and there, but of course that didn’t work. Finally I lifted my head, but only a little, because I had what felt like the mother of all hangovers, and I hadn’t had a drop to drink.
“Ungggggg,” I moaned.
“Don’t move ... don’t get up yet,” came a female voice. The wet cloth was removed and I saw the maid who had let me in. Well, at least I didn’t have to face Lori.
“I think I’m okay,” I said. “My head’s a little sore, but I think I’m okay.” I just wanted to leave. And then maybe move to Montana.
“You just lie right there,” said the maid. “Miss Lori told me to keep you right here until she gets back.” I figured Lori had gone for a gun or something. I tried to get up, but the maid held me down.
“I have to get out of here,” I said a little hoarsely. “I have to go home.”
A new voice broke in ... the voice I loved, but really didn’t want to hear at this particular point in time. “You just lie right there, you silly,” said Lori. I looked up and saw her. She was even beautiful upside down. She knelt down and leaned over to start bandaging up my head.
“You cut your head when you fell,” she said as she wrapped gauze around my head.
I wasn’t listening, because she was still in that loose shirt and when she bent over I could see right up into it. I just stared. Maybe my eyes glazed over ... I don’t know. Anyway, pretty soon I looked at her face and she was watching my eyes. She knew I was looking again.
“You’re incorrigible, you know,” she said with a straight face.
“Oh gosh Lori ... I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... I mean I...” I just sort of trailed off to nothing.
.... There is more of this story ...