Teacher's Pest
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Spanking, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Food, Exhibitionism, Teacher/Student, Public Sex, School, Military,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - High school chemistry teacher faces challenges from brainy female student.

"Wrong again, Mr. Barry!" jeered Tiffany Criswell, interrupting the teacher's chemistry lecture, "they're INVERSELY proportional, not DIRECTLY proportional!"

David Barry began to once again seethe inside. He had become accustomed to the young woman's intellectual challenges over the course of the school year. The interruptions were becoming at least a weekly occurrence. Unfortunately, she was usually right. But it still felt like a kick in the groin every time she did it.

"What are you saying?" he responded. "Are you contradicting your teacher?"

"Only when he's WRONG," she replied caustically. "Just think about it logically, Mr. B. When the volume of a fixed amount of gas increases, the pressure HAS to decrease. You've got the same amount of gas in a larger space. Boyle's Law is that volume and pressure are INVERSELY proportional."

"Great," he thought silently to himself, "the little twerp has embarrassed me in front of the class once again."

Fuming, he said in his outer voice, "Miss Criswell, your logic is impeccable, but your attitude is dreadful. I simply misstated what I intended to say. But one more outburst like that, and you'll spend a week of lunches in detention."

The skinny blonde's saccharine smile turned to a scowl. A distinct pout caused her lower lip to protrude. She spat out a retort that only the kids seated near her could hear. Their laughter told Mr. Barry that the comment was none too flattering.

"That's it, Miss Criswell! No more lip. I want you to stay after class to discuss your punishment."

She muttered again, this time unintelligible to anyone in the vicinity.

Ten minutes later, as Mr. Barry finished describing their homework assignment, the bell signaled the end of 5th period. As the other students filed out, chattering and laughing, Tiffany remained behind, silent and stone-faced.

Mr. Barry pulled a chair up in front of the girl's desk.

"Tiffany, why do you have to keep yanking my chain?"

"I don't consider it to be 'yanking your chain'!" she blurted. "I just think a teacher should be more careful to teach things correctly. YOU'RE the one who should be in trouble, not ME!"

Mr. Barry was just about to the boiling point. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared. She was pushing his buttons, and she knew it.

"Young lady, don't push me. I deserve far more respect than you're showing me now, or that you've shown me all year. You take that back or you'll regret it!"

"The only thing I regret is signing up for a chemistry class taught by a moron!" she spewed with venom.

David Barry had been sassed by this bespectacled, blonde-haired, blue-eyed brainiac one too many times. "That's it – up you go, little witch! You're going to learn some manners!"

Tiffany's eyes grew wide as Mr. Barry moved toward her desk and towered over her. She felt a moment of panic, an instinct to run out the door. As she scurried up from her desk, her wrist was caught by Mr. Barry's firm grip.

Her desperate attempt to flee hurled her body circularly around the desk, her knee crashing into Mr. Barry's groin. He buckled from the impact. She crumpled in a heap on top of the desk.

David Barry was no longer thinking clearly. A year's worth of embarrassment from this brat had come to a head. Combine that with the physical injury to his manhood during her aborted escape – these were the makings of a bad situation.

Without taking the time to count to ten and relax, Mr. Barry acted on his own instinct. He picked Tiffany up from the desk, sat down on the chair he had pulled over in front of it, and dropped her like a rag doll over his knee.

Tiffany was still limp when Mr. Barry said, "If you're going to act like a brat, you're going to get treated like a brat!"

With that, he cupped his large right hand and smacked Tiffany's taut rear-end with a stinging slap. Her body went immediately rigid, and a whimper escaped her lips. Even through her jeans, the spank made a sound loud enough to echo off the walls.

Twice more he lifted his hand and administered a slap across her rump. After the third spank, he pulled her up, glared into her eye, and said, "Had enough?"

Tiffany's mouth gaped open. She was silent for the better part of thirty seconds. The feistiness was gone; no sneering retort was left in her.

"Yes, Mr. B," she whispered.

"Well so have I!" he barked back at her, "no more sassing me in class, or there are plenty more where those came from!"

"Yes, Mr. B," she replied again.

"Good! Now get your little butt out of here, and don't make me smack it again!"

Tiffany grabbed her backpack and headed out the door. Mr. Barry watched her exit. He could have sworn she wiggled her ass just before she disappeared. "Just working out the sting, I'm sure," he thought to himself.

That night, David could barely sleep. "I'm gonna get fired," he kept thinking. "That little spitfire is going to have my job," he sulked.

It was a long night indeed. Back at school at 7AM, hair tousled and eyes bleary from exhaustion, David made a beeline for the teacher's lounge. He went directly to the coffee maker. As he was brewing the first pot, Principal Marklein entered the room.

"I need to see you in my office, Mr. Barry," Mr. Marklein rasped.

"Can I get a cup of java first?" enquired Mr. Barry, "I sort of need a shot of caffeine to get me going in the mornings."

"I don't think it can wait," said Mr. Marklein.

"Shit – here it is!" thought Dave silently, "There goes my job!" Aloud, he said, "Be right there, sir!"

Principal Marklein left the room. Dave hesitated, then followed silently behind. All the way to the principal's office, Dave was trying to think of ways to deflect the hammer that was about to be dropped on him.

Tiffany was certainly out of line in disrespecting him, but corporal punishment had been banished from the school years ago, and teachers had never had the prerogative. Spanking had always been reserved for the principal.

Dave expected Tiffany's parents to be waiting for him in the principal's office – waiting to pounce. He felt a wave of nausea in his stomach. "Suck it up," he thought, "take it like a man."

"Close the door," Mr. Marklein said after Dave walked into his office. Dave shut it gently. There was no one else besides the two of them in the room.

Mr. Marklein fixed a stern gaze on Dave, then raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Barry, I have something serious to talk to you about," he began.

"Great," Dave thought, "lay it on me." Aloud he said, "Sir, let me start..."

"No need for that," Mr. Marklein said, cutting Dave off. "Mr. Barry, I know it's been a long year for you."

"You can say that again," replied Dave.

"And because of that," continued Mr. Marklein, "I'm sure you're looking forward to some time off."

"Shit!" thought Dave, "he's kicking me out!" Aloud, Dave said, "I guess you could say that."

"Well, the summer break's almost here – " replied Mr. Marklein, "but not for you."

"Right. You want me to leave today," Dave's silent mind continued. Aloud, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry to say, but we need you to stay on for an extra week."

"What?" Dave sputtered, genuinely flabbergasted.

"We need you to act as an educational chaperone at the National Chemistry Contest in Washington, DC. It's the first week after the end of the school year."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. For the first time in the history of this school, we have a student who scored well enough on the qualifying exam to make it to the national finals."

Dave was floored. He was in his third year of teaching, only twenty-five years old, and he had taught a student well enough to make the National Chemistry Contest finals?

"W-w-what student?" Dave stammered, his brain beginning to comprehend the horrible truth.

"Why, Tiffany Carswell, of course!" beamed Mr. Marklein. "She's the smartest student in the school, and she waited until her senior year to take chemistry, so why shouldn't she blow that damn test out of the water?"

"Uh-huh," Dave managed to grunt. He hesitated, then asked, "Have you heard from Tiffany or her parents about this?"

"Oh yes, of course! Her parents let me know about the letter from the National Chemistry Contest organizers."

"And – they didn't talk to you about – anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Um, I don't know. About me?"

"Why, yes! They want you to be her chaperone."

"Why does she need a chaperone? She's eighteen, and I'm sure her parents will accompany her anyway."

"Well, that's just it. Each contestant must have a sponsor, so you'd need to be there anyway. But Tiffany's parents are going to be in Australia that week – important business trip for her dad, and her mom's speaking at a conference of professors that same week. Her mom's smart as a whip, just like her daughter. And good looking as hell. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

"So I need to babysit the brat for a week?" Dave complained.

"Don't think of it that way," said Mr. Marklein, "think of it as an opportunity to work on your patience – and your interpersonal skills."

Dave grimaced. "She's the bane of my existence," he retorted.

"Look, Dave," replied Mr. Marklein, "I know she can be annoying. God knows, she's corrected every teacher she's had since the first grade. And she seems to have made it her mission to embarrass you in front of your chemistry class this year..."

"You – you KNOW about that?" Dave asked.

"Of course – kids talk, and word gets around. I don't know why YOU didn't come to talk to me about it..."

"It's – too embarrassing. She makes me feel emasculated when she criticizes me. It's not at all in a spirit of jest. I can take a little razzing as much as the next guy, but this kid really seems to want to humiliate me."

"At least you're man enough to take it," Mr. Marklein commended, "some guys would have put her in her place by now."

"Some guys would have..." Mr. Barry's voice trailed off. "Yeah, some guys ... So, you're sure Tiffany's parents didn't have anything else to say?"

"Only that they trust you more than any teacher she's ever had. She just raves to them about how smart you are and what a good guy you are."

"Holy shit!" Dave exclaimed aloud. Mr. Marklein's other eyebrow went up. "I – I – I mean, you're kidding, right? She acts like she can't STAND me."

"Well, not according to Mrs. Criswell. Such a pretty lady, you know – and so smart! She had a twinkle in those beautiful baby blue eyes when she was talking about you. She said you'd be the PERFECT chaperone for her daughter! So – you're in?"

"Do I get paid for the extra week?"

"Of course – but standard pay, not overtime."

"Has the union okayed it?"

"Not to worry. I've asked Miss Thurman to take care of the details."

"I should get battle pay. But, whatever – I guess I'm in."

"Great!" replied Mr. Marklein as he gave Dave a congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

Dave returned to the teacher's lounge to collect his cup of coffee, astonished at this turn of events.

Tiffany was absent from 5th period chemistry class for the next two days. David Barry began to worry. Was she really sick, as indicated by the parental voicemail left at the office? Or was she plotting her revenge for the spanking he had given her?

On the third day, Tiffany entered the classroom just as the tardy bell sounded. She was wearing a short plaid skirt, white shirt, plaid vest and white socks with black patent leather shoes – and those dreadful, thick black-framed glasses.

"Funny," thought Dave, "I don't think I've ever seen her wear a skirt before. Usually just loose jeans or sweat pants and those dorky, bulky pullover sweaters."

"Take your seats, class," he bellowed above the din. "Take out your homework and pass it in, and turn in your textbooks to page 473."

Immediately, Tiffany's hand shot up. "I don't have my homework, Mr. B.," she stated flatly, peering over her glasses.

"That's okay – you've been sick. You can make up for it later," smiled Mr. Barry.

She smiled an impish grin. "I'm SURE you'll find a way for me to 'make up for it later'," she answered suggestively, emphasizing the 'make up for it later' statement with finger quotes raised in the air.

Mr. Barry's face flushed, beet red. Once again, he was humiliated – not at his own carelessness or stupidity this time, but at essentially being attributed lecherous designs on a high school student.

"That's enough, Miss Criswell," replied Mr. Barry.

"What's the matter, Teach? Haven't got the balls to carry through on your threats?"

David Barry was becoming livid once again. He paused long enough to gather himself. "Man enough to take it," Dave told himself silently, "don't let her get to me. Thanks, Marklein."

In front of the class, he managed to cast a sneer in Tiffany's direction. "I won't justify that comment with a response, Miss Criswell," he said, "you can simply see me after class about your punishment for your backtalk."

"Ooh – seein' Mr. B. after class for 'punishment'," chortled Willie Skaggs from the front of the class, amused at himself and emphasizing 'punishment' with his own set of finger quotes.

"Careful, Mr. Skaggs, or you'll be meeting me too!" warned Mr. Barry. Willie went silent. The class went about passing in homework and turning to page 473.

After a brief lecture and a class lab featuring a fiery reaction between gummy bears and potassium chlorate, Mr. Barry gave an overview of the upcoming final exam. He suggested that students with questions or difficulties come to an upcoming lunchtime study session, or see him to schedule a one-on-one review time.

As the bell rang, students filed out once more. Mr. Barry noticed Tiffany lingering behind. He'd nearly forgotten that he had asked her to stay after class so he could mete out punishment for her "haven't got the balls" comment.

By this time, Dave was no longer angry. He was prepared to let her off with a warning. He looked at Tiffany; she was peering at him through her owlish glasses. Their thick black frames did her no favors. He almost sensed that she wanted to look studious rather than stylish.

She seemed to sense his resignation about her punishment. Rather than letting the proverbial sleeping dog lie, she said, "Guess you really DON'T have the balls – or its accompanying little male FRIEND – to carry through on your threats!"

"Mr. Marklein be damned!" thought Dave. He wasn't going to let this kid talk to him like that! Dave took Tiffany by the elbow and pulled her toward him. "That's IT, young lady!" he spat, "You've pushed me far enough!"

He was seeing red. He walked her over to his desk, still gripping her elbow. He sat down in his chair, and not-so-gently turned her over his knee.

On impulse, Mr. Barry decided to make it really sting. Without due consideration, he raised her skirt to administer the spanking. To his shock and horror, Tiffany wore no panties! Her bare white ass was awaiting his punishment.

Dave nearly stopped in his tracks, but he was still fuming. Tiffany offered some feeble resistance to the spanking, her legs wriggling but not really kicking hard enough to get free. He wasn't going to let her out of it so easily!

Dave held her legs still with his right arm and gave her a left-handed spanking. The sound of the "Thwack!" on her bare rump once again echoed off the classroom walls, but this time with a different timbre.

Since Dave wasn't left-handed, he assumed the spanking was not as hard as the one he'd given her through her jeans a few days before. However, after he had whacked her butt three times, he noticed red left handprints imprinted on her lily white skin.

He quickly lowered her skirt in shame. "Crap!" he thought, "I've done it again! And this time it could be construed as sexual abuse, not just physical! My ass is fired for sure!"

Dazed by the situation, his actions were controlled by reflex rather than by thought. He stood Tiffany up and left her beside his chair. He walked over to her desk, picked up her backpack, and handed it to her.

"You may leave now, Miss Criswell," he stated flatly, "and we'll have no more of your lip, lest you suffer the consequences a third time." His words always dripped with sarcasm and grew longer when he wanted to play the authority card.

"Yes, Mr. B.," Tiffany replied meekly, "I'll keep my mouth closed. At least, until you want me to open it." Her posture was one of utter acquiescence.

"And here's a free tip," Mr. Barry added, "if you're going to wear a skirt, make sure and wear some panties. There's no telling what kind of perverts around here might try to cop a look or a feel if they knew you weren't covering your privates."

Tiffany's face turned crimson. She looked as if she were about to cry.

"Oh, no," thought Dave, "here it comes. She's going to blast me for humiliating her, for seeing and smacking her bare ass. I'm not just gonna get fired, I'm gonna get sued!"

Outwardly, he tried to ease the tension with a gentle pat on Tiffany's shoulder. "Now get outta here, kid, before I have to punish you again!" he smiled, replacing gruffness with humor.

He caught a glint of something in Tiffany's eye, but it was muted by her thick lenses. "Um, sure, Mr. B.," she said, "see ya tomorrow." She strapped on the backpack, turned toward the door and left.

"Shit!" thought Mr. Barry. "She's gonna run home and tell Mommy and Daddy. Ideal chaperone, my ass! Forget Washington, DC after the school year – they're gonna run me out of town tomorrow!"

To his surprise, Dave suffered no reprisals from the Criswells the next day, nor the day after that. Tiffany went back to wearing jeans after her foray into the world of skirts – apparently Dave had sufficiently embarrassed her, or perhaps his warning about the perverts in the school had had an effect.

She was better behaved in class, offering no zingers or challenges to her chemistry teacher – until the extra study session at lunchtime on Friday. Thankfully, only three students had bothered to attend.

"Should have made it some day other than Friday," Tiffany asserted as she looked around the nearly empty room, "even a moron knows that all the kids like to hang out at the Pizza Palace for their five-dollar buffet on Fridays."

Dave tried to ignore the "moron" comment. He noticed that something was different about Tiffany.

He took time to observe that she was once again wearing a skirt, this one satiny and sparkling, almost like a ballerina's outfit. A matching top featured sequins and frills, with a tiara to match. A freakin' tiara! And – catch this – she had lost the black-rimmed glasses! She could easily be mistaken for a very pretty girl.

"I'm sorry the scheduling doesn't meet with your approval," Dave stated in his most teacher-like tone, "but, after all, one must make some sacrifices if one wishes to excel."

"Damned straight!" she replied enthusiastically.

"I'm glad you agree," he said, "but please refrain from vulgar language in my class."

"Like hell!" she replied.

Dave was beginning to simmer. "Are you trying to get me to dole out some more punishment to you, Miss Criswell?"

"Do what you've gotta do," she replied, "I can take anything you can dish up. And I mean – anything at all."

The other two kids perked up at this comment. "She means ANYTHING, Mr. B.," said Willie, thrusting a lone finger through a cupped hand in an obscene gesture.

"Enough!" shouted Mr. Barry, "Let's finish the review session. And Miss Criswell, I want you to stay behind after 5th period class."

"You want to do WHAT to my behind after 5th period class?" she countered.

Dave was aghast – she was about to out him for what he'd done! "Stop mocking me," he said quietly, "just stay after class to discuss your punishment. Fifth period, not now, since that's at the end of the school day."

"And what did you have in mind that will take us more than a few minutes? I can't imagine that you'd be up for more than a quickie. At least, that's what I heard that your girlfriend says..."

"That's IT!" Dave bellowed, "Willie and Sarah, I want you to leave. Go on and join the others at the Pizza Palace. I'll re-schedule the review session for a more appropriate day than Friday." He waited until they had gathered up their things and left.

"And YOU, young lady – get the hell out of my class and march your ass down to Mr. Marklein's office. I'll let HIM deal with your nonsense."

Tiffany began to pout. Dave noticed the fullness of her lips, the shine of the overhead lights reflecting off her ruby red lip gloss. For the first time, he registered the extreme beauty of her eyes. She must be wearing contact lenses, he realized, since surely she couldn't see clearly without those Coke bottle lenses she usually wore.

"But, Mr. B., it's lunchtime. Mr. Marklein has cafeteria duty. And besides, I want YOU to be the one..."

"The one ... to what?" stammered Dave, still fuming, confused by her unfinished statement.

"Never mind," Tiffany sighed, "I guess I can't expect a moron to figure things out."

"Moron? If you use that word with me one more time, Tiffany, I'm going to have no choice but to turn you over my knee again!"

"Is that a promise – MORON?"

And with that, Tiffany lay across Mr. Barry's chair and hiked up her skirt. Her creamy white ass cheeks were once again completely exposed.

To his consternation, Mr. Barry felt the unexpected stir of his cock in his pants. He'd never felt anything sexual toward his students before. After all, they were just kids. They were immature, not his intellectual or emotional equals.

But Tiffany was different. She was certainly his intellectual equal – probably his superior. At eighteen, she was more mature than most of her peers. But she was still a kid in many ways. She was a thorn in his side, taking verbal jabs at him frequently and mercilessly, baiting him and embarrassing him in front of the class. What the hell was wrong with her?

And now, here she was, completely vulnerable, exposed from the waist down. And apparently – wanting him to spank her!

Suddenly, he could see the manipulation for what it was. Ever since that first spanking, she seemed to find opportunities to more fiercely and more deliberately push his buttons. Was it to get him to do it again? Surely she would have told somebody if it had humiliated her in the way he figured it would. She could have gotten him fired by now, but instead she was back for more.

"Put your damned skirt back down, Tiffany," commanded Mr. Barry, "you are one fucked up kid."

"I'm NOT a kid!" declared Tiffany, "and ... I've never been fucked..."

"TMI, Tiffany – 'Too Much Information'. Your love life isn't my business. And you've just proven that you ARE a kid. A mature woman wouldn't practically beg a man she's not involved with to spank her bare ass."

The remark hit its target. Tiffany's lower lip quivered. Tears began to stream down her face. She flipped her skirt back down, grabbed her backpack, and headed toward the door. "Not INVOLVED?" she shouted tearfully as she left the room.

That night, Dave once again struggled to sleep. He was troubled deep in his soul. Every grain of professionalism within him told him it was wrong to lust after one of his students. But he couldn't help it.

His brain seemed to be running in overdrive. It kept playing back the events of lunchtime in slow motion. And despite the fact that she could be annoying as hell and had a lot of growing up to do, Dave had to admit to himself that he found her exquisitely attractive, both intellectually and physically.

As he lay awake, Dave could see Tiffany's beautiful blue eyes, no longer masked by those ridiculous eyeglasses, in his mind's eye. She was just like the nerdy girls in teen movies who turn out to be thinly-veiled foxes, tainted only by a bad pair of glasses and frumpy clothes.

He saw the gloss of her luscious ruby red lips, daring to spar with him verbally, then pouting when things didn't go her way. He wanted to kiss those lips.

He saw blonde tendrils of her silken mane of hair drifting out from under her tiara. He wanted to feel her hair sweep across his naked chest, and further down toward more erogenous zones.

He saw the sequins on her ballerina top glistening in the fluorescent light, the slight swell of her maturing breasts peeking above the "V" neckline. He wanted to touch, to fondle, to suckle below the neckline.

He saw her long, supple legs, white rather than tan, exposed from ankle to high thigh in her short skirt and patent leather shoes. He wanted to massage those legs, to taste the essence of her fair skin. The whiteness conveyed a sense of purity, of innocence. And what was it she had said about having never been fucked?

And then he saw her beautiful bare buttocks, exposed to him through her simple act of submission in presenting them to him for her punishment. He wanted to plant his erection between those beautiful buttocks, taking her feminine slit doggy style. Her declaration that she could take anything – "anything at all" – drifted through his mind time and time again.

He mentally explored what could comprise the "anything." Hadn't she said she'd keep her mouth shut until he wanted her to open it? He could think of something for which she could open it. Or maybe he could punish her rear end with something more creative than his open palm. Or maybe he could flip her over from that bare-assed position and punish her virgin pussy, missionary style, with his raging hard-on.

"Damn," he thought, "I need a girlfriend! It's been WAY too long. I can't pine away after some bratty kid who's never gonna happen!"

He rested in fits and starts for the remainder of the night, opting not to relieve the massive boner that thoughts of Tiffany had stirred in him. He'd be damned if he was going to jack off to thoughts of a senior chemistry student.

"Mr. B., can I talk to you?" asked Tiffany in the hallway the next morning.

"Sure, Tiffany," Dave answered guardedly, "what's on your mind?" He noticed a change in her demeanor, and inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair.

"You mentioned that you'd give some one-on-one time to students who need extra prep for the final exam. Can I meet with you sometime soon?"

"But Tiffany – you're my best student..."

A smile lit up her face. He had deftly pushed the pride button. "Um ... okay, Mr. B., let me just be straight with you. I need to talk to you one-on-one about something besides chemistry. Something ... personal."

Her eyes – again sans glasses – shimmered with eagerness. Her perky freckled nose twitched briefly with nervousness.

"Don't you think you should see Ms. Wygal? She's the designated guidance counselor for girls. She can help with ... personal matters."

"This doesn't have anything to do with HER," Tiffany replied petulantly, "it has to do with YOU."

"Shit!" thought Dave, "She's gonna give me my come-uppance about spanking her. Maybe she's going to blackmail me!"

"Oh, I see," he said aloud. "Well, in that case, how about during lunch today?"

"How about after school?" she said, "And how about at your place? I'd prefer for it to be where nobody else can interrupt us."

Dave's brain was flashing red lights and sounding warning bells. His professional ethics and fiduciary responsibilities would in no way allow for him to meet a student for personal consultation at his own home.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea, Tiffany," he replied.

The disappointment was written all over her face. "Why not?" she asked.

"Well, um, Tiffany," he started, "some people could see it as inappropriate. I mean, after all, with me being a man and you a young woman..."

Tiffany's radiant smile beamed from ear to ear, dazzling Dave with its sincerity. "Young woman?" she asked, "Don't you mean 'kid'?"

Dave was tempted to reply cynically with a caustic quip, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to do it. Temper tantrums and bare-assed spankings aside, he had to admit that Tiffany was a blossoming young woman.

"No, you're no kid," he said, "I was just yanking your chain yesterday. Turnabout's fair play."

Tiffany once again lit up the hallway with her smile. "Well, regardless of what people think, I'll be by your house at 5:00. I won't take 'no' for an answer!"

As she started to walk away, Dave blurted, "But how do you know where I live?"

"Mr. B," Tiffany retorted, "any MORON can use the phone book, whether in print or on-line!" With that, she flashed him a devilish grin and darted up the hallway.

At 4:52 PM, Dave peered out his front window for a third time. He didn't know whether to run or to turn on some mood music.

He opted to straddle the line, and set out some soft drinks on the table between the two chairs on his front porch. He'd keep her outside on this nice late spring day, so that nobody could accuse him of taking advantage of her behind closed doors.

At 4:58, Dave could see her in the distance, walking down the sidewalk in his direction. His heart began to race, and his cock began to stir. He felt perspiration above his lip and on his forehead.

"Damn! That girl is trouble!" he said out loud. "Can't let her get to me!" he thought.

Tiffany was wearing a cottony spring dress, one with a floral print about the midriff, pure white from the waist down and around the breasts, with white spaghetti straps at the shoulders. The top of the dress was the clingy, form-fitting kind. It accented her thin midriff and budding breasts. It appeared that she wore no bra underneath.

He noticed as she approached that the sunlight filtered through the cottony white bottom of her dress, so that her bare legs were visible in shadow through the material. He wondered if she was wearing any panties underneath. What he wouldn't give to find out. "Crap – stop that, you pervert!" he scolded himself.

As she stepped on the porch, Dave couldn't contain himself. "You look – wonderful!" he said.

Tiffany's radiant smile appeared once again. To his astonishment, she leaned toward him and gave him a hug.

Not knowing how to deal with the "no physical contact between teacher and student" dictum, he declined to return the hug, but didn't shrug out of her grasp either. After a brief embrace, she stepped back and said, "Thank you, Mr. B."

"For what?"

"For saying that I look 'wonderful' – for treating me like a grown-up," she replied simply.

"Well, there's no denying you're all grown up – at least, mostly..."

"That's what I came to talk to you about," she said, "I came to apologize for my behavior. I got to thinking about what you said. Treating you like shit all year wasn't very adult of me. And begging you to spank me was ... let's just say – premature."

"Don't you mean 'immature'?"

"I meant exactly what I said, Mr. B. Remember, I'm not the one who accidently mixes up what I mean to say," she teased.

"Touché," Dave replied, still not quite understanding this confusing young lady.

"And, as to WHY I did what I did," Tiffany began, "did you ever think I might be trying to get your ATTENTION?"

"Well, um ... quite honestly, I guess not," Dave answered.

"While we're being honest, can I be totally transparent with you?" she asked.

Dave immediately thought of the enticing shadow of her long legs under that filmy white dress when she used the word "transparent." "Um, sure," he replied.

"Mr. B., I – I've had a MAJOR crush on you for the past three years," she admitted, "ever since you arrived at our school. People talk, especially in school – and I heard a LOT about you. Then, when I took your chemistry class, I found out it was all true! You were this handsome, kind, shy, intelligent, somewhat nerdy guy – all characteristics that I find incredibly attractive. And you happened to be – a teacher."

Dave was floored. "Uh huh..." was all he could manage to say.

"I've always found the boys in high school to be just that – BOYS. That's why I wear putrid glasses, no makeup and baggy clothes to school. Those boys ARE the perverts that you were talking about that day when you told me to wear panties under my skirt."

Dave's face flushed at the recollection.

"But you – you're a MAN," she continued, "Not just looking to get into a girl's panties – there's more to you than your dick. You think with your MIND."

"If you only knew what's been controlling my thoughts about YOU lately," Dave thought to himself. Outwardly, he protested, "You sure don't seem too impressed with my mind in class."

"That's because I'm 'yanking your chain, ' as you like to say – messing with you to get your attention. Like Shakespeare said, 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much.' That's me! But you seem fixated on the fact that I'm your STUDENT – not a young WOMAN who shares a hell of a lot in common with you."

Dave was deluged with a flood of conflicting emotions. She was right – he DID put a "student" label on her and cast her neatly into that role. But, dammit, wasn't that what he was SUPPOSED to do?

"Let's say you're right," Dave replied hesitantly, "let's say I've slotted you in the wrong box. And just suppose – for argument's sake – that I find you incredibly attractive, too. Suppose that everything about you – your intellectual curiosity, your drive to excel, your caustic sense of humor, your athleticism, your stunning good looks under that dorky façade – is a mystery I want to unravel. Keep in mind that I'm only speaking hypothetically..."

Tiffany's silly grin betrayed her knowledge that he couldn't have spoken so vividly if he were speaking "hypothetically."

A bee circled and landed on the rim of Dave's glass, and he swatted it away.

"And suppose, dearest Tiffany, that I desperately want to have a relationship with you. And that I lay awake at night thinking about you."

"Really?" she interrupted.

He paused. "Really," he confessed.

"I thought I was the only one dorky enough to do that," she smiled. She didn't tell him that she masturbated to thoughts of him, nor did he tell her that he had the worst time trying not to do the same to thoughts of her.

He returned her smile. "That doesn't change the fact that you're my student. I'd get fired, maybe sued, maybe even ARRESTED if I got involved with you."

"Mr. B., have you ever heard of Shakespeare's 'The Taming of the Shrew'?"

"Of course," replied Dave.

"Well, do you actually KNOW the story?"

"Look, Tiffany, my major in college was chemistry. I didn't have too many Shakespeare courses," admitted Dave.

"Well, let me just say that I see you in the role of Lucentio. He's a private teacher for Bianca, but in fact he has the HOTS for Bianca. And she has the hots for him, and eventually they get married. If it's good enough for Shakespeare, it's good enough for me."

"I'll still get arrested," Dave lamented, "and I have my professional ethics. I can't change who I am."

"We do have a problem," she stated matter-of-factly, "but I have a simple solution. And it won't involve changing you – I like you just the way you are."

"And what might that simple solution be?" he inquired.

"Easy. Graduation! I'm already eighteen, and in three weeks I'll no longer be your student!"

Dave looked into Tiffany's eyes, mesmerized. "You mean – in three weeks, you want to start a courtship?" he asked.

"That sounds rather old-fashioned," she laughed, "let's just say, come graduation, we get started in earnest."

Dave's heart was beating at what felt like twice the normal rate. He reached across the table and put his hand on Tiffany's. "I like the sound of that," he said simply.

"You'll like more than just the sound," she promised, "I'll engage all five of your senses." With that, she leaned across the small table and kissed him fully on the lips.

It was all he could do not to pounce on her right then and there. As their tongues entwined and both became disoriented as to time and space, their cans of soda tumbled over on the table and began dripping onto the porch.

"We'd better watch out for what the neighbors will think," Dave muttered. "I'll go get something to clean this up."

"I'd better get home," she answered breathlessly, "my folks will be expecting me for dinner."

Dave watched as she skipped away down the sidewalk, sunlight once again casting shadows through the lower part of her dress.

Graduation day finally arrived. It had seemed like an eternity, both to Dave and to Tiffany. In the interim, they hadn't waited completely to "get started" on the "courtship," at least not on an emotional level. The physical level would have to wait.

They stole moments of sharing both deep thoughts and casual banter, getting to know one another more deeply – all the while being careful not to seem like anything more than teacher and student to the naked eye.

Finally, it was time for the graduation ceremony. After the introductions and preliminaries, the audience stood and clapped while the graduating students filed in from the rear of the auditorium. Mr. Barry watched quietly as he stood in the front row below the podium.

He scanned the faces of the kids whose lives had crossed his over the past three years. It was a bittersweet feeling – he was proud of their accomplishments, of the next steps they were taking toward their life's goals, but he would miss them, each and every one.

There was one of whom he was most proud. His eyes fixed on the girl at the head of the line, blonde hair cascading behind her as she walked, blue eyes sparkling. She looked like an angel, a heavenly vision. She cast a smiling glance in his direction as she made her way to the stage.

He sat down, mesmerized, as she took her place behind the podium to give the valedictory speech. The clapping stopped and the audience hushed to give Tiffany the opportunity to speak.

"Family and friends, fellow students, school staff – and most of all, teachers," she began. She looked directly down at Dave as she said that last word, 'teachers.' "We are gathered here to celebrate. We celebrate not just an accomplishment, but one of life's passages."

"In a way, some of us are passing from childhood to adulthood. On this very night, we will become fully adult," she declared, grinning like the Cheshire cat and staring straight at Dave. He gulped and tugged at his collar, his cock once again stirring in his pants.

He listened and daydreamed as she continued her speech. She kept it short and sweet and finished up in less than ten minutes.

Her final words resonated in Dave's mind and heart: "And, in conclusion," she said, "a wise man once said to me that 'one must make some sacrifices to excel.' Those words apply not only to academics, but to all of life's endeavors. And they apply perhaps most of all to the most important endeavor – human relationships. It takes more than 'chemistry' to succeed in a relationship – though perhaps Chemistry is a great starting place!"

Dave couldn't help but smile. He knew that the double entendre in those words was meant for his ears only. As she watched his reaction, she knew that he knew. And she dared to blow him an air kiss, though the audience surely thought if was for the crowd in general.

After the ceremony, families gathered for pictures with the graduates. As Dave ambled by the Criswell family, Mrs. Criswell called him over. "Will you do us the honor, Mr. Barry?' she asked.

"Sure," replied Dave, "just tell me how your camera works, and I'll be glad to take a family photo."

"Oh, that's not what I meant, 'Mr. B.'," responded Mrs. Criswell, "I want to take your picture with Tiffany. After all, we need to mark this occasion with a record of the second most important man in our daughter's life."

"So I still rate as number one?" quipped Tiffany's dad.

"Not for long," thought Tiffany, not daring to speak it aloud.

The sunlight filtering through the window was just turning to dusk when Dave's doorbell rang. His pulse quickened as he walked to the door. Opening it, he was pleased – one might even say excited, in more ways than one – to see Tiffany's smiling face.

"Come in," he said tentatively, "make yourself at home."

"Home," she repeated slowly, "that's exactly what it feels like – like I'm coming home."

Dave had never realized what a sentimental sap he was, not until Tiffany pushed her way into his life. He found himself getting misty-eyed at Tiffany's "coming home" statement. He wrapped her in a brief embrace.

"Tiff," he said, and she smiled approvingly at his shortened use of her name, "I have to tell you, I'm really nervous about this 'passage' into a new realm."

"You're having doubts?" she asked.

"Not about you – not about us," he assured, "I just don't want you to think I'm like those teenage boys – a pervert who cares about nothing but getting into your panties."

"Oh, not to worry" she replied, "there's no danger that you're trying to get into my panties. I'm not wearing any!"

Dave stifled a gasp, but he couldn't stifle the swelling in his boxers. He suddenly realized that the shirt collar and cuffs as well as the hem of the skirt that Tiffany had been wearing under her cap and gown during the ceremony were now noticeably absent.

Dave already had an idea from her earlier submission to a bare-assed spanking that Tiffany may have some exhibitionist tendencies. As she began to tug at the zipper on the front of her graduation gown, he realized he was about to get a full frontal exhibition.

"J-just a minute, Tiff," he stammered, "do your parents know you're here?"

"My mom does," she replied, "I'm not sure Dad would buy in, but Mom knows I've been crushing on you for three years. She found my diary in the middle of this school year. She's not into invasion of privacy, but she was worried about me – noticed my strange behavior, and thought I might be on drugs."

"And she – approves?"

"'Love is preferable to other drugs, ' she said to me," Tiffany explained. "And why do you think she pushed Principal Marklein to send you as my sponsor and chaperone to Washington, DC?"

"But why wasn't she angry about it being your teacher, someone who could misuse his authority to get you to do things you didn't want to do?"

"If that was how it was, sure, she'd be angry. But she realized from my diary and our talk afterward that you weren't the instigator, but that you were a worthy recipient of my affection."

"And she still felt that way after I spanked you?"

"Well, she didn't exactly know about that. I didn't want to ruin everything by telling on you. Besides, I pushed you into it, and I – kind of liked it. It really turned me on. I don't remember ever being wetter than right after you spanked my naked ass."

"Um, Tiff," Dave explained, somewhat embarrassed, "I didn't mean that to be a sexual act. I've never been into humiliation of those I care about."

"Oh, but I didn't take it that way – just the opposite. It showed me that you DID care, that you weren't ambivalent in your feelings toward me. And besides, it didn't REALLY hurt."

"I would never intentionally hurt you, physically or otherwise – especially, not now."

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now that we're..."

"We're what? I want to hear you say it," she laughed.

"We're – involved," came his reply.

"EXACTLY. That's what made me cry the day you told me that a grown woman wouldn't beg someone she's not involved with to spank her bare ass. In MY mind, I'd been 'involved' with you for three years. You just didn't realize it yet."

"I'm sorry I made you cry," he replied sincerely.

"And don't do it again!" she teased, "And don't make me beg this time. I want you to start tonight by spanking my bare ass. Now that we're – involved. Like I told you, my request wasn't IMMATURE – it was PREMATURE."

Her hand returned to the zipper at the top of her gown. She was ready to offer up her bare ass for him to spank.

"Let me help you with that," whispered Dave, his voice catching in his throat.

"I'd be honored, Mr. B." she replied.

"Let's drop the 'Mr. B.' thing – I'm no longer your teacher."

"Oh, but I beg to differ. I intend for you to teach me – everything."

Dave felt a tingle of elation. "Okay, you've got a deal," he replied. "But please – call me Dave."

"But calling you 'Mr. B.' feels so – naughty. I like feeling naughty. How about I still call you 'Mr. B.' just for tonight?"

"Um ... okay – MISS CRISWELL," he chortled.

"Damned straight," she laughed, "now get this crazy gown off of me."

"Come here, you," he instructed, taking her in his arms and squeezing her in a hug. Their lips met, tongues exploring each other's mouths in unleashed passion. One of Dave's hands began to rub Tiffany's buttocks through the satiny gown; the other cupped her (facial) cheek in tender adoration.

"Tiffany, Tiffany," he breathed, stepping back, "I've wanted this for what seems like SO long! But I'm determined not to rush it. I want to make it an experience that you – that both of us – will remember forever."

With that, he began to nibble down her cheek and throat, finding his way down her neck. When his lips reached the top of her gown, he took the zipper of the garment between his teeth. Descending downward while holding both of her hands for balance, Dave reached the middle of her chest before looking back up into her eyes.

Tiffany was gazing lovingly back at him. She let go of one hand and used it to run her fingers through his hair, to pull him against her chest. The gown gaped slightly open, enough for Dave to see a partial profile of her left breast. Distracted but determined to savor the journey, Dave continued his downward momentum.

Arriving just above her waist, Dave stopped momentarily and nuzzled Tiffany's belly button. His head moved from side to side, his nose tickling her navel. He felt her tense up.

"Nervous?" he asked, letting the zipper momentarily slip from his teeth.

"More like ticklish," she replied, "but it feels good – REALLY good."

Dave kissed her navel, then licked it. "Oh, Mr. B.!" she exclaimed, pulling his head into her stomach with her free hand. As she released her grasp, Dave took the zipper once again in his teeth.

He pulled the zipper another foot downward. For the first time, her pubic mound was exposed to him, and his face was only inches away. He wanted badly to go directly to it and make her squeal with delight, but he was determined to build slowly to a crescendo. There would be other opportunities for frantic couplings, but there would be no other FIRST time.

Dave looked upward again, trying to read Tiffany's eyes. She nodded to him to continue his exploration. He smiled at her, then quipped, "If I were a piece of heavy machinery, would it be an airplane?"

Confused, eyebrows raised, she asked, "What?"

"I'm just wondering, since I see you've reserved a 'landing strip' for me!" he answered goofily.

"Goofball!" she laughed.

"And, say, I guess you really DON'T color your hair. I can now honestly say that you're a 'real blonde' – and I've seen the evidence to prove it!"

"MORON!" she chided teasingly.

Re-acquiring the zipper between his teeth, Dave found his way all the way to the bottom of the garment. Letting go of the zipper, he stood up. Tiffany smiled, then pushed the gown off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Dave's sharp intake of breath told her everything she needed to know.

"I've wanted you to look at me like that for SO long," she said happily. "That's another reason I cried when you told me to put my skirt back down, when I tried to make you spank me a third time. I wanted you to WANT to see my body."

"I can honestly say that my conscience wouldn't let me enjoy it then," he returned.

"I know, and I understand. But now?"

"Unlike that occasion, I'm ready to enjoy every moment of gazing at your beautiful body. I'll even turn you over my knee – if that's what you still want."

"It's a start," she replied, "it'll get the juices flowing, so to speak."

Dave pulled a sturdy armless dining chair to a clear spot in the middle of the living room. As the dusk was now turning to darkness, he closed the window shades and turned on additional lights. He sat in the chair and motioned Tiffany to stand in front of him.

Taking the occasion to admire her creamy, still-maturing breasts up close, Dave was tempted to take one of her rosy, erect nipples in his eager mouth to suckle it. "Patience," he told himself silently.

He hugged her naked body once again, and suddenly felt extremely overdressed. He realized he was still completely clothed. "Patience," he thought once again. He pointed to her ass and then to his lap

Tiffany followed his cue and lay across his legs, her bare white ass centered between his knees. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked.

"I trust you not to hurt me. And besides, it excites me – makes me feel like a naughty girl," she confessed.

"Okay, naughty girl – here goes," said Dave. He raised his right hand and administered a half-hearted slap across her bare rump.

"Come on, Mr. B., you can do better than that!" she chided. "I'll tell you what – if you'll indulge me my little fetish, I'll see what I can do to indulge you yours. Any confessions as to what that might be?"

"Tiffany, I'm a little embarrassed..."

"You're not going to keep it from me, big boy. I've told you that your spankings make me wet. I want to know what gets you hard, just fantasizing about it. Tell me your dirty little secret!"

"Um, well..."


"You know how I told you that you're a mystery to me?"

"Uh-huh," she grinned, "I liked that."

"Well, one of the facets I mentioned was your athleticism. I know you're in competitive gymnastics. One of the things that's always turned me on about female gymnasts is when they do the splits. I've always – I've always wondered what it would be like to see one do the splits..."

"Go on," she encouraged.

"Okay, Tiffany, I'll say it. I want to see you do the splits naked."

"And then you'll spank me?"

"I'll spank you first – you're already in position. But thinking about seeing you do the splits naked will give me an incentive – it'll build up my enthusiasm."

"You drive a hard bargain," she said, "but I accept your terms."

Dave couldn't believe his ears. "The bargain's not the only thing your driving to be hard," he said. His prick was standing at attention inside his boxer shorts. "Are you sure you don't think I'm a pervert?."

"Like I said, I like feeling naughty. Doing the splits naked sounds naughty to me."

"Ready for the rest of your spanking, naughty girl?"

"Ready and willing!"

Dave whacked Tiffany's ass enthusiastically a couple of more times. He saw the imprint of his hand starting to rise to the surface of her skin. "Had enough?" he asked.

"One more," she pleaded, "you're making me so horny and wet!"

He smacked her beautiful derriere one more time. "There," he said, "done." He leaned down and kissed the red marks. "Are you okay?"

"Mmmmm," she replied, "more than good." She grasped the hand that he had used to spank her, and grazed his outstretched fingers across her feminine slit. His fingers came back soaked and shiny.

"We'll return to that location and give it the attention it deserves shortly," he said, "but first, I want to go get something for you. Stay here and I'll be right back." He stood her up, admiring her slim athletic figure, her blossoming breasts, her blonde landing strip above the juncture of her long legs, her golden locks scattered across her narrow shoulders.

He dashed off to the hall bathroom and grabbed a container, then returned to the living room where she stood beside the armless dining chair. He sat back down and lay her once again across his lap.

"I hope you didn't get KY jelly," she asserted, "'cause I'm as wet as I'll ever need to be."

"Not to worry, my little darling," he cooed, "it's pretty much the opposite of KY jelly." He held up the container, revealing its contents: baby powder.

She recoiled in mock horror. "You're not going to put that on me, are you? You'll make me dry as a bone!"

"I've got a bone for you," he joked, "but no, I'm not going to put it on your pussy. It's to take the sting off your ass cheeks – the sting from your spanking."

"Oh, okay, Mr. Macho, I get it. You think your little naughty girl can't handle a bare-assed spanking from her big bad teacher," she teased, "Sure – go ahead."

She had to admit later that it was a WONDERFUL idea that had entered Dave's brain. The way he sprinkled it on – it was so cool to the touch. Then the way he massaged it in, making little circles on each buttock, then gently spreading the circles outward – spanking or no spanking, this intimate act of compassion felt GOOD, not only physically but emotionally, for the tender caring that it demonstrated.

When he was done with her butt massage, Dave leaned over and kissed each cheek once more. "Ready to indulge MY little fetish?" he asked.

Tiffany stood up. Dave couldn't keep his eyes off her luscious naked body. "Do you have a balance beam in here?" she queried half-jokingly, but then added, "Seriously, you'll have a better view if I'm elevated."

"No balance beam, but how about the back of the couch? It's sturdy and level, and it's out here away from anything that might pose a danger if you should fall."

"I'm not going to fall – I've made the sacrifices to ensure that I excel at gymnastics, too," she assured him.

"Why am I not surprised?" he laughed.

To Dave's genuine surprise, Tiffany darted toward the couch, launched herself in the air, turned a flip and planted her feet squarely on the back of the couch.

"Good thing it's a cathedral ceiling in here," he uttered, mouth agape. Then he watched as she slowly, surely, gingerly let her legs spread apart and let her body begin to drop.

"Come closer," she encouraged, "indulge your fetish. Watch my pussy from up close while I finish the splits."

Dave was mildly taken aback, but realized quickly that she seriously wanted to please him. He stepped forward and knelt down to where Tiffany's crotch was at eye level.

She held her arms out straight and dropped all the way down to the point where her spread legs were horizontal to the back of the couch. Her vaginal folds were pulled apart, exposing her love tunnel to Dave's gaze. He moved nearer, his face so close that he couldn't help but inhale her fragrance. He began to lazily lick her juices with his tongue.

"Mr. B., that feels really good. But I won't be able to keep my balance if you do that. How about let's find a place that's more – comfortable. And while we're at it, why don't we get YOU more comfortable." She tugged at the bottom of his shirt.

"Tiff, you are AWESOME," he smiled as he began to undress, "You have just knocked one of the items off my bucket list."

"I have a feeling we'll be doing a lot of that for and with each other, both tonight and for a long time to come," she answered hopefully. Dave was pleased that her plans for the future included him.

When Dave was down to his boxer shorts, he motioned Tiffany to come closer. "Would you do the honors?" he asked.

"Gladly," she replied. She grasped the elastic band of his boxers on both sides of his hips, then gently eased them down. Her smile grew broader as his cock was exposed. His cock grew broader as he saw her smile at what she saw.

"So, Mr. Chemistry Teacher, what's the scientific reason for that gigantic expansion in the size of your penis?" she asked as his boxers fell all the way to the floor and he stepped out of them.

"Scientifically, it has to do with the change in blood flow to that part of the body. It's sort of the sexual cousin to Boyle's Law for gases, where the volume and pressure are inversely proportional – yes, INVERSELY, not DIRECTLY. Except here, the number of molecules is increasing due to the blood flow. To keep my poor willy from bursting, its volume MUST expand."

"That sounds completely rational – so that's all there is to it?"

"Well, rationality is not what causes the change in blood flow. It's something much more complicated – and that something is YOU, my little vixen!" he declared truthfully.

Tiffany blushed. "Was it just my naked splits that made your dick grow?" she asked.

"Well, that truly erotic scene certainly made me want to 'free willy.' But no, it was the look on your face when you were looking at me. It does a man good to know when a woman wants him."

"A woman," she replied earnestly, "it does me good to hear you call me that. Not a GIRL – a WOMAN."

"Speaking of being a woman, Tiff," Dave began.


"Can I be blunt with you?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir," she granted playfully.

"Tiffany, you told me once that you'd never been fucked," Dave stated bluntly.

"True," she replied, "not just that I said it – but that I haven't."

"Tiffany, I want you to know that I don't intend to simply fuck you. I want to make love to you – to excite your mind as well as your body. I want to be your teacher in the most intimate of ways."

"Then teach me, Teacher!" she answered joyfully.

Dave smiled and picked Tiffany up, one hand under her knees, the other under her buttocks. She draped an arm around his neck. Tiffany was surprised when he stopped at the kitchen rather than the bedroom.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Besides my dick?" he toyed with her.

"You know what I mean, silly – what's going on?"

"I'm just picking up a few things to heighten the experience for you – for us."

He set her down momentarily and took a flimsy plastic grocery bag from a drawer. He gathered a few items and dumped them in the bag. He then draped the bag over his wrist and picked Tiffany up once again, heading toward his bedroom.

As he set her gently on the bed, she couldn't hide her curiosity. "What's in the bag?" she queried.

He pulled out a jar of honey, a spoon, a squeeze bottle of strawberry jam, and a spray can of Reddi-wip.

Her eyes grew wide. "And I thought I was the naughty one," she quipped.

Dave knelt in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I won't ever do anything to hurt you, and if you're ever uncomfortable with something I'm doing, just tell me and I'll stop. Rule number one is that we can always talk about our feelings."

She started to chide him for making rules, to kid him for playing the role of the authoritarian teacher, but she decided she liked his first rule and would withhold her complaint.

"Okay," she agreed, "so far you're not making me uncomfortable."

"Good," he assured her, attempting to alleviate any anxiety she may feel. "Now, I want you to lie flat with these behind your head," he said, fluffing some pillows. "Since I'm right-handed, you take up this side of the bed and I'll join you from the other side."

Tiffany obeyed Dave's instructions, stretching her long legs nearly to the end of the bed, her tousled blonde mane splayed out on the pillows. Dave knelt on the bed beside her, holding the jar of honey in one hand and the spoon in the other.

"That's going to make a mess," she noted doubtfully.

"The sheets will wash, and we can always move to the guest bedroom afterward," he reassured her, though he placed them for the moment on the bedside table. He leaned down and gently kissed her cheek, then her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.

Her heart felt like it was about to burst, she was so full of love and desire for this man who had seemed to be constantly annoyed with her only weeks ago. Their tongues entwined in a primal dance, and Tiffany felt the warm sensation of Dave's hand on her breast. It felt so good, the way he kneaded and massaged, then teased the tip of her nipple to full erection.

"Take it in your mouth," she begged as she released him from their kiss, "please!"

Dave immediately obeyed, suckling her nipple, swirling his tongue around the edge of her areole. He moved to her other tit, repeating the pattern. She pulled his head tighter against her breast.

"You're going to make me cum just sucking my tits," she exclaimed.

"I'm going to make you cum many times in many ways," he assured her, "but I'd be surprised if this alone will do it. However, let me spice it up a bit, and I think it might do the trick!"

He picked up the honey jar and the spoon, leaving the bottle of jam and the can of Reddi-wip on the nightstand. Opening the jar, he ladled up a tablespoon of honey and began drizzling it on Tiffany's right tit. He concentrated it on her nipple, making tiny circles around the rosy bud.

She watched in fascination, her pussy beginning to throb with excitement. Much like hot fudge on a mound of ice cream, the honey gently flowed down the precipice of Tiffany's breast and on to her rib cage.

Dave then dipped the spoon back in the honey and proceeded to lavish a large dollop on Tiffany's left breast. Tiffany watched the glow in Dave's eyes and felt cherished.

Oddly, though, she couldn't help thinking of Winnie the Pooh and his notorious Hunny Hunt, the most popular attraction at Tokyo's Disneyland. She'd been there as a child on one of her parents' overseas junkets. "He sure is taking ME for a RIDE," Tiffany thought lovingly as she watched Dave's ministrations.

His artwork complete, Dave sat back, dropped the spoon in the jar, and placed it on the bedside table. As he admired her sticky, shiny breasts, he moved his fingers to the top of her pubic mound. Caressing her silken landing strip, Dave felt Tiffany spread her legs wider in invitation.

His fingers dipped down to her feminine core as he lowered his tongue to her rib cage. Starting at the lower end of the sticky honey trail and licking upward to keep the sugary treat off the sheets, Dave simultaneously drew circles around her slippery labia with his middle finger.

As he drew finger and thumb together to gently rub her engorged clitoris, Dave's tongue lapped at her honey-soaked rib.

"That tickles," she laughed.

"Want me to stop?" he asked.

"Don't you dare!" she answered.

He continued to lick slowly up her side, enjoying the taste of the honey, but moreover the feel of her taut skin, the wafting fragrance of her heightened state, the sight of her blissful enjoyment, and sound of her quickened breathing. He continued to strum her clit with his finger and thumb while working his middle and ring fingers into her slippery chasm.

As he plunged deeper and quicker, Tiffany's hips began to rise, pushing her vulva harder against his thumb and fingers. As Dave's honey-coated tongue reached the globe of her breasts, swirling toward her aching nipples, Tiffany's hips began to thrash beyond her control.

Just as he took one nipple in his lips, Tiffany exclaimed, "Mr. B.! Mr. B! DON'T STOP!"

Dave felt Tiffany's pussy clenching his fingers. Pleased with himself, he continued to suckle her tits as her climax unfurled. "N-n-n-aaaaaieeeee!" she squealed.

Dave kept his fingers and thumb, lips and tongue stroking at full throttle until her orgasm subsided. Tiffany couldn't believe the feeling of utter ecstasy that filled her.

She regained her breath and confessed, "That's the – first time – anyone else – has made me – cum..."

"It will be a night of firsts, Tiff – relax and enjoy!"

"Enjoy, yes – relax, I'm not so sure!" she retorted, though her labored breathing began to subside.

"Hang on here while I go get something to clean you up a bit," Dave instructed. He went into the bathroom and returned with a warm, wet cloth.

Tiffany detected a distinct floral scent emanating from the bathroom. However, Dave's gentle, sensuous washing of her nipples, breasts and sides completely distracted her. Dave moved to her feet and began to wash her toes with the cloth.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Dave smiled. "Next course," he mumbled.

"Is that dinner course or educational course?" she quipped.

"Both," he replied simply.

Dave walked to the nightstand and grabbed the squeeze bottle of strawberry jam. Returning to her feet, he opened the lid and began to squeeze it between her toes.

"Omigosh," she laughed.

"You've heard of 'toe jam'?" he laughed.

"Of course – but not in THIS context!"

"Well, this is MUCH better than the other kind."

"You've done this before?" she asked.

"Well, actually – no," he replied, "but you've opened new vistas of creativity to me. The sky's the limit!"

"Bullshit," she responded, momentarily surprising him. She smiled, then explained, "When it comes to you and me, there ARE no limits!"

"You're on!" he agreed. He then leaned down and began licking the strawberry jam from between her toes. Gently, he suckled each toe as he moved from one toe to the next.

The sensation felt erotic and sensuous to Tiffany, but then her mind began to wander. "Mr. B., I can't help thinking about 'this little piggy went to market' when you do that," she confessed.

Dave couldn't contain his laughter. When his giggles finally subsided, he said, "It's like a buffet; try a little of this and a little of that, and go back for more on what you really like."

"I don't DISLIKE it; it's just that I can't get those little piggies out of my mind," she replied.

"Good think I left the package of bacon in the fridge," he said.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed.

"Seriously," he replied, "I'd thought of trying that as a fun way to lube your rear end, but decided we'd save that for another night."

"Sounds kinky," she said, "but also like a good way to get trichinosis."

"We'll look that one up before we try it."

"I'll definitely want you to do something to lube my ass before you take it, but uncooked pork just doesn't sound too sanitary."

"I'm glad you're up for letting me take you from behind, but we'll save it for next time. Tonight, let's focus on the front end."

"You have yourself a deal, Mr. B.!" she replied earnestly.

Dave felt like a man on a mission. Not a mission to satisfy himself, but a mission to please this incredible young woman. He wiped the rest of the jam off her toes, then returned to the nightstand and grabbed the Reddi-wip.

"I'll bet I know what that's for!" Tiffany declared.

"Yes, but do you know WHY?" Dave asked.

"Because it's fun?"

"Sure – at least I'm pretty sure. I've actually never used it before either, but I couldn't help but think of it when I thought of you. So WHY do you think that is?"

Tiffany's brilliant brain searched its recesses for a moment, and Dave could tell from her dimpled smile and shining eyes that she had a very good idea of the answer.

"I'll take 'Virginal Metaphors' for $200, Alex," Tiffany quipped.

"And the Jeopardy answer is," mocked Dave in his best Alex Trebek imitation, "'Whipped cream best accompanies the gift of this symbolic fruit'."

"What is 'Giving you my cherry'?'" asked Tiffany.

"And the crowd goes wild with cheers and applause! CORRECT ANSWER!" Dave danced and waved in mock adulation.

"Seriously, goofball," Tiffany snickered, "I AM giving you my cherry, and I think it's very thoughtful of you to bring the whipped cream. Especially if you have in mind what I think you have in mind."

"I want to make sure you're COMPLETELY ready before we go cherry-picking," Dave responded. "Great minds think alike!"

"Guess I can't play the 'moron' card this time," Tiffany laughed.

Dave uncapped the can, then positioned Tiffany's legs at a ninety degree angle from one another. Her gymnastics workouts left her limber enough to hold that position for long periods of time.

Dave kissed Tiffany on the lips, then kissed each breast, then moved to her vagina and sprayed it with a generous helping of Reddi-wip. After placing the can on the nightstand, Dave moved to her toes and began an upward trail of kisses, just as he had left a downward trail of kisses as he undressed her earlier.

Dave briefly suckled her toes, but not wanting to conjure up visions of little piggies, he didn't linger there. He continued to her ankle and calf. As he kissed and licked the front of her lower legs, he began to massage the back.

"Mmmmm, feels good," Tiffany encouraged.

"YOU feel good," Dave replied, rubbing and kissing, working his way past her knees and up to her thighs. He spent a good deal of time massaging the backs of her thighs while he kissed and licked his way up toward their juncture.

By the time he reached her pussy, she was fully aroused once again. Dave almost wished he hadn't used the Reddi-wip, as it completely obstructed his view of her pubic region. "Patience," he told himself, "it will be worth it."

"Mr. B., you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I can assure you, I DEFINITELY want to. You're not uncomfortable with it, are you?"

"I've actually masturbated at night, thinking about you doing this," Tiffany confessed, "only I didn't think about the whipped cream."

Dave was overwrought with pleasure. She had actually masturbated while thinking of HIM! And she was comfortable enough with him to admit it! Wow, what a girl! "I mean, WOMAN," he corrected himself mentally, "at least, she's about to be."

Outwardly, he said, "Good. Hopefully the reality will be as good as the fantasy." He began to delicately lick the Reddi-wip from her inner thighs. He turned his lower body toward her chest, preparing to give himself better oral access to her vagina and ultimately to her clit.

"Mmmmm. The reality has already been better than all the fantasies – and there have been a LOT of them with you," she admitted. "And you haven't even eaten me out yet, let alone gotten to the MAIN course!"

She sure knew how to rev his engine. She had LOTS of fantasies about him! And the reality – even without getting any further than this – was so much BETTER! Maybe her intellectual prowess extended to the importance of stroking a man's ego.

As if she had telepathic powers and had overheard the word "stroking" in his mind, Tiffany lazily began to stroke Dave's stiffening rod. With his face between her legs, he had already amassed a large erection, but Tiffany's pumps were bringing him quickly to the edge.

He raised up momentarily. "Tiff," he said, "I want to be inside you the first time I cum tonight. The first is always the most explosive ejaculation."

"First? You can cum multiple times? I thought that was unusual for men. But I like the sound of it."

"I make no promises about that, but I've been known to cum once or thrice. I can say for sure that the first will be the wildest, especially since I haven't been with a woman for a very long time. I want you riding me when it happens. So keep the hand stroking at a slow pace so you don't make me cum yet."

"Pretty please? With a CHERRY, on top?"

"You can be on top, Miss Virginal Metaphor," Dave quipped. He dipped his head back to her muff as he heard her cackle at their mutual joke.

As he slurped the Reddi-wip and licked her vaginal folds, Dave worked his fingers back into her sopping wet love tunnel. The warm, squishy feeling sent tingles of pleasure up Dave's spine. The stimulation of her pubic region sent tingles of pleasure outward from Tiffany's feminine core.

"Tiff," he asked, "tell me what you like."

"Take my nub in your mouth," she replied, "I like squeezing it with my fingers. I'm sure your lips – maybe even your teeth, but gently – would feel good."

Dave was worried about hurting her with his teeth, but he felt free to work as hard as he could with his lips and tongue. He continued to finger fuck her, in and out then round and round, over and over, while his mouth teased her clit to full engorgement. He could feel the tell-tale sign of her vaginal region constricting, of her hips thrusting out of control.

"I'm cumming, Mr. B.!" she shouted, "keep it up! Keep me cumming!"

Dave sucked, licked and stroked furiously as he felt the eruption within her. "God, what a sexual creature!" he thought. Her orgasm wracked her body and simultaneously wracked his soul.

Finally, as her shudders subsided, Dave raised up and turned toward Tiffany. To his surprise, she immediately began to laugh uncontrollably.

"What – what's up?" he inquired.

"Go – go – go look in the mirror!" she chuckled.

Dave walked over to the mirror and saw a comical sight.

"Thanks for the gift, Santa!" Tiffany hooted.

Dave's reflection appeared to carry a white mustache and beard, courtesy of the Reddi-wip. His face had apparently acquired as much whipped cream as he had lapped up from her pubic region.

Dave grabbed the washcloth and cleaned his face. He smiled at Tiffany, who was still rolling on the sheets with laughter. He tossed the cloth aside and launched himself into the bed beside her, then began to tickle her stomach.

"I'll give you something to laugh about!" he teased. She laughed and jerked, but then grabbed his hands to stop the tickling.

She turned to face him, then embraced him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. You just looked so CUTE. And truly – thank you for the gift of going down on me, Santa or no Santa."

"I'm GLAD to make you laugh, Tiff," Dave answered, "laughter is good for the soul."

"Well, the Reddi-wip facial hair did the trick," she replied, "though I'm a little surprised you didn't put some of that honey in my 'honey pot'. That would have been just as appropriate as a metaphor."

"We need to vary our metaphors," he laughed, "and our use of food products. Variety is the spice of life, my sweet, and I intend to spice up your life for a long time to come."

"Speaking of a long time to cum," she teased, "you certainly haven't let me help you experience the ultimate release yet!"

Dave nearly spewed his load right there. She wanted to make him cum – wanted to give him the ultimate pleasure. He already knew it to be true, but to hear the words flow off her innocent lips sent a wave of ecstasy crashing through him.

He turned toward the nightstand and opened the top drawer. He began opening a brand new, unused box of condoms. Tiffany saw what he was doing and stopped him in his tracks.

"Put that away," she commanded, "we won't be using any of those tonight – or ever!"

"No protection?"

"None needed," she replied, "remember when I told you that my mom had read my diary?"


"And that she approved?"

"Uh – huh..."

"And you know that she's a pretty smart lady, right?"

"Well, yes..."

"Don't make me play the 'moron' card again, Mr. B.," she teased.

"Not unless you want me to spank you again," he laughed. "Yeah, I think I get it, only I'm not sure what form."

"Mom got me on the pill," she replied simply.

"And I'm clean – no medical baggage," he assured her, not knowing whether she'd thought beyond unplanned pregnancies.

"Yeah, I was almost certain that was the case," she answered, "but knowing the kind of person you are, I was even MORE certain that you'd tell me if there was a problem."

"So no latex barrier – pure flesh on flesh contact?" He wanted to make absolutely sure.

"I've never been more certain of any decision I've ever made in my life," she assured him.

With that assurance, Dave tossed the box back in the drawer and turned back toward Tiffany. He draped his leg across hers, and felt her move to slide her slick vagina across his bare thigh. His cock began to throb against the outside of her hip.

"I want that in me," she stated unashamedly.

"I do, too – but let's take it easy. I don't want to hurt you," he returned.

"I understand, and I appreciate that. I know all about the hymen and that crap," she mused, "but I REALLY want your cock inside my pussy."

Dave again felt ready to burst with jubilation. She knew all the right ego buttons to push to make him happy, just like she knew how to push all the wrong ego buttons to annoy him in class.

Dave sat up and placed a few pillows against the headboard to the bed. "Come here," he requested, "sit up and turn toward me." He rested his back against the pillows.

She obeyed willingly, sitting upright beside him while turning to face him.

"I promised you could be on top," he said.

"I don't care how we do it – I just want you inside me," she replied, "I want to feel you thrusting, to feel you lose control because of me, to feel you plant your seed inside me."

In her mind, she added, "And I want to see your face – to know whether you love me."

As if exercising his own brand of telepathy, Dave said, "I want you to face me while we do this."

Tiffany smiled at him, then leaned in for a kiss. Their lips and tongues explored each other as their arms and bodies locked in a passionate embrace. From their upright seated positions, Tiffany made the first move to straddle Dave's erection.

Not allowing her to fully lower herself onto his manhood just yet, Dave eased her down to where her vagina just barely grazed his fully engorged dick. Dave purposely let her slide slightly past his cock head, to avoid premature penetration. He wanted to simply hold her for a moment.

Tiffany sensed his hesitation. She felt so much love for this man, she could hardly wait to have him inside her, but she decided to let him dictate the pace.

Dave began some gentle thrusts along but not into her labia, caressing them with his dick, thrusting upward but not inward. Tiffany felt a spasm of pleasure at this erotic friction. She wanted to pull him inside her, but still she waited for him to initiate the penetration.

Dave embraced Tiffany again, kissed her gently on the lips, and looked into her eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She held his gaze and nodded. He wanted it to be her initiative, her gift. She sensed this change of leadership and grasped his cock. She rubbed it against her labia, moistening his cock head with her juices, preparing it for irreversible entry.

At last, she positioned his fully erect penis right at the entrance to her fully primed but as-yet-not-deflowered pussy. The room was heavy with anticipation.

"Mr. B., do you..." her voice trailed off.

"Do I – what?" he asked. She couldn't find her voice, but he could read the expression on her face. "Do I – love you?" he asked tenderly.

She nodded affirmatively – this was her unspoken question.

"Yes, Tiffany, I love you absolutely. You're no longer a thorn in my side – you're a thorn in my heart. If you were taken from me, my heart would bleed."

"Oh, Mr. B.!" she whispered, a tear trailing down the side of her beautiful, freckled nose.

"No more 'Mr. B.'," he replied, "it's Dave."

"Dave ... yes ... DAVE! Dave, I'm home where I belong. And Dave, I love YOU, too. Heart and soul – mind and BODY!"

At those words, his cock could no longer be restrained. Tiffany felt the gentle piercing of his erection as he eased it into her moist, warm, over-stimulated vagina. No thrusting, not yet – he remained completely still, aside from the expansion caused by that change in blood flow that they had discussed earlier. Dave felt her pulsing, throbbing vaginal muscle virtually pulling him inside of her. Just a little further, and they'd be home free.

And then it happened. Dave felt his erection move past the barrier. Tiffany smiled at him. They began a mutual thrusting that took both of them to the brink of the precipice.

Dave began massaging her tits and thrusting for all he was worth. He felt her juices immerse his pubic region.

Tiffany felt the wonder of being loved by a man who was making love to her. She rode him hard, still barely believing that she had become a woman in the arms of this man whom she'd wanted for so long.

As he neared his climax, Dave didn't want to cum alone. He reached his right hand down from Tiffany's breast and inserted his thumb into the top of her slit, above his thrusting cock, so that he could massage her clitoris.

Tiffany leaned toward him for another passionate kiss. She was riding a wave of ecstasy as she rode his cock. She felt a third orgasm rising up from within. But she didn't want to cum without him.

"Dave," she whispered huskily, thinking how good it felt to call him by his first name. "Dave, can you cum with me?"

"Oh, YES!" he replied, "YES! LET'S GO!!!"

Dave and Tiffany grasped and groped each other, both thrusting and bucking. Dave felt Tiffany's vagina constrict around his cock. She was squeezing him past the brink.

Tiffany was overcome with emotion and sensation. The wave of euphoria from her climax lifted her to a place she'd never been.

Dave felt the spasm of his cock spurting his seed into Tiffany's womb. Her vaginal muscle continued to milk the ecstasy out of him for half a minute or so. As he came down from the peak, Dave slumped forward into Tiffany's arms.

"Omigod!" she cried out, "I could have never imagined it would be like that!"

Dave sat back up and looked into her beautiful eyes.

"Neither could I," he said truthfully, "You are unique and INCREDIBLE!"

Tiffany grinned her satisfaction. "So – you want to do it again?"

"Again and again, day after day, year after year – love is a powerful drug, and I think I'm addicted!" he replied, "But – for tonight, give me a little chance to recover."

At that very moment, his emptied, limp cock dropped to the bed from its perch in her vagina. "I felt that," Tiffany said, "abandoning ship?"

"Absent without leave," he quipped, "but come with me – I have something to show you."

He led her from the bedroom to the bathroom. As he opened the door, the floral scent that she had noticed earlier filled her nostrils. She peered inside and was filled with adoration for her man – there, from the door to the whirlpool tub, lay a pathway of rose petals.

"Guess I'm really a sap at heart," he said.

"Quirky and loveable," she admitted, "and I wouldn't change a thing."

They walked hand-in-hand, naked, to the tub. Dave helped Tiffany maintain her balance as she stepped into the tub, though with her gymnastic abilities, she would have been fine. He was simply being a gentleman.

He then went to the linen closet and brought out a large bottle of scented bubble bath. Handing it to her, he said, "Go ahead and get this started. I'll be right back."

While she started the water running, he ran down to the kitchen. He returned to the bathroom clutching two wine glasses and a large green bottle.

"Sparkling non-alcoholic grape juice," he informed her as he stepped into the tub.

"So I'm not yet a woman after all? Afraid to give me the good stuff?"

"You're DEFINITELY a woman. In fact, that's what this bottle is for – to celebrate your transition and our union. But I wouldn't want to destroy any of your pretty little brain cells in the process," he explained, "especially not before the National Chemistry Contest next week. Besides, the legal drinking age is twenty-one here, and you know about me and my conscience."

"That's part of what I love about you – but thankfully, you also have a powerful sense of adventure. I have a feeling we're in for a lot of adventures."

"I'll drink to that!" he affirmed, pouring the grape juice into the two glasses and handing one to her.

"To love," he said.

"To love," she agreed.

They clinked their glasses together and drank the toast.

"Speaking of adventures," she said, "have you thought about our trip to Washington next week? I mean, other than protecting my pretty little brain cells?"

"Thought about it? I've fantasized about it for weeks!" he retorted.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, I'm thinking we should just get one room."

"Not worried about appearances? How about adjoining rooms with a connecting door?"

"I'm a sensible girl, not just an intelligent one," she laughed, "there's no sense wasting money."

"I like that, Tiff, but won't your parents object?"

"They'll be halfway across the world! Now turn that water off before the tub overflows."

He shut off the tap and turned on the jets. The whirlpool wrapped its swirling warmth around their bodies.

"Um, Dave," Tiffany spoke up meekly, "could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, Tiff – anything," he replied.

"Well, have you had enough time to recover?"

Dave smiled, his cock starting to swell. "Well, probably..."

"Good," she grinned. "After all the pleasure you've given me tonight, I wanted to take a turn at pleasuring you. And I just got to thinking..."

"Yes?" he inquired.

"Well, with this being a night of firsts, I got to thinking that I've never had a cock in my mouth before..."

"Uh-huh," he replied in a raspy voice.

"And, um, Dave, before we get started, would you mind going to get the jar of honey from the bedroom? I've always liked the combination of salty and sweet..."

Dave raised his eyebrows at her subtle implication.

Seeing his reaction, she smiled a mischievous grin. "And yes, dear sir, I DO intend to SWALLOW..."

For the rest of this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you're already registered, then please Log In otherwise Register