Study Sessions
Copyright© 2025 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 3: Leila and Gloria
Drama Story: Chapter 3: Leila and Gloria - Julie is popular, pretty, head cheerleader, and blonde. And, she sounds like a ditz. But she needs to pass math and English so she stops nerd Charley and asks him to come tutor her at her home. Then her sister Lynn barges in on them; she doesn't wear clothes. Charley's sister offers him advice on girls and what they like. He messes up on his first date and must ask his aunt for advice. He's tutoring AND being tutored. Caution: one side character is mentally ill.
Caution: This Drama Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Fa mt Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction School Tear Jerker Incest Brother Sister Niece Aunt Nephew FemaleDom Group Sex Exhibitionism First Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Big Breasts Nudism Violence Illustrated
At tutoring, Julie had an announcement. “Hey, Charley, good news. I’ve found your first crash test dummy.”
“My WHAT?”
Julie continued, “Hun, she’s your first date. She’s Leila Rucker; do you know her?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“I’m not surprised; she’s a year behind us. Your sister Debra knows her mother. Charley, I approached Leila and asked if she might be interested. I told her you were great and handsome and she would enjoy her time with you.”
“Is she nice? Is she pretty? Correction, is she human and breathes oxygen? I don’t mean to sound picky.”
“Trust me, Charley. She checks all four boxes. Now listen, here’s the plan...”
That evening, I dialed her number.
“Hello, may I speak to Leila?”
I voice that sounded like a 14-year-old boy screamed in my ear.
“LEILA! PHONE!”
“Who is it?” Leila asked.
“I AIN’T YOUR SECRETARY; IT’S SOME GUY.”
Breathless after a pause, “This is Leila.”
“Leila, my name is Charley Gleason. The reason I’m calling is I’d like to invite you out, uh, out with me, uh, and a couple of girls.”
“Wait a minute. Is one of those girls Julie Pauzer?”
“Yes. And the other is my sister Debra.”
“I see,” Leila said. She continued, “And where are you planning to take this harem?”
I started coughing. Harem?
“Um, sorry, the big mini-golf place, the one with the batting cages? Saturday at noon?”
“Noon? You’re buying us lunch?” Leila asked.
“Yep, uh, yes, and the balls.”
She started giggling, and I died a little inside while trying to apologize.
“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it, Charley; buy the food and get the balls—sounds like fun! Can you please pick me up? I mean, come to my house?”
I answered, “Sure, what’s your address?”
“I’m at 194 Cherry Lane.”
“No shit? Oh, sorry.” Swearing at her? I explained, “You’re around the corner from me, almost. Julie also lives on Cherry Lane.”
“No shit!” Leila giggled again. “You’ve corrupted me with your word choices in those warm, mellow, sexy tones.”
“Uh, right back at you, Leila. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Looking forward to it, Charley (Click).”
Fortunately or unfortunately, she couldn’t see my silly grin over the old-fashioned landline phone.
“I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life.
And that is why I succeed.”
—Michael Jordan
I think I may carry my failure that day for the rest of my life. I walked up and rang the bell at 194, shifting my feet nervously. Her brother opened the door, turned his back, and used his same bellowing voice to summon Leila.
I wasn’t prepared. Leila Rucker was only five feet tall and wore tight shorts along with a tighter t-shirt that stretched over the largest breasts I had ever seen. I must have gaped rudely; and she waited several beats before reminding me.
Cold, “My face is up here, Charley.”
“Oh! Yes, sorry. You’re ready to go?”
“I am.”
I stepped to the side on her front porch and tried not to stare at HER front porch. My eyes locked on her shorts as I followed behind her to the car. She stood by the passenger door for an uncomfortable few moments before huffing, grabbing the door handle and getting in.
Beating myself up for my continually crude behavior, I couldn’t make conversation during the drive to the golf place. When we parked next to Debra’s car, Leila didn’t wait for me; she simply snapped off her seat belt, opened her door, and walked over to Julie and Debra.
Those three had a whispered conversation and then abruptly walked through the gate of the golf center—heading for the dining area. I followed them, still mesmerized by the ticktock movement of Leila’s ass.
I tried to redeem myself as we ate, but I was paddling in Shit Creek against the current and getting nowhere. I wasn’t too surprised after lunch when Leila begged off on walking around in the sun for 18 holes and asked Debra to take her home.
I tried to stammer an apology before she left, but she took no notice of it. After they left, Julie turned on me with fury.
“What the HELL is wrong with you?” She went on like this for about five minutes, and we were a bit of a spectacle. Julie managed to control her language since there were children around us. But her intent was crystal clear.
“You are going to the flower shop to buy a bouquet and leave it at her door with an apology note—right fucking now!”
Sixty dollars later, I left the arrangement at her door. But I fully expected the blooms would end up in her trash can.
Back at home, Deb wouldn’t even speak to me for a couple of days. After that she described in great detail and at great length her opinion of my disgusting behavior.
And then, “Remember that stuff about finding a third, Charley? That’s over; you’re on your own. I know you’ve apologized to Leila, and eventually I’m going to forgive you. But it’s better if we don’t interact for a while.”
“I’m sorry, Deb. I know I embarrassed you. I’ll stay out of your hair.”
With Julie, the tutoring continued. But our sessions, which used to be pleasant and warm, became icy. I apologized to Julie and thanked her for getting me to the florist. Even so, she was no longer willing to interact with me on any non-academic subjects.
“Julie, I deleted those photos of you.”
“Thank you, Charley, I appreciate that.” She turned back to her assignment.
On a weekend afternoon, Debra and my mother were out of the house together—shopping or something. I tracked down Dad and handed over the unopened box of condoms.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he said. “You want to explain why you’re returning this box?”
“I have no need for it. It’s a long story, and I fucked up.”
I turned to leave, but he used his “command voice.”
“Sit your ass down! You’re going to tell me everything. Start. Now.”
I went through the whole history, except for the photos, all the way past the apology bouquet to being dressed down by my sister and frozen out by Julie.
“Charley, you did fuck up. Was Leila really that unusual?” I tried to explain without getting too graphic.
“I think you’re underplaying what she looked like. I know you’ve seen Deb’s breasts many times. Yeah, like in the backyard. But you’re also missing your biggest issue. Do you really think Deb won’t talk to your mother? Iris knows something is going on, and she will worm the story out of your sister. And then, son, your life will be over.”
“I am so fucked. Oh, sorry, Dad.”
“Nope. You are, I agree. But maybe I can protect you from the worst of it. I’m going to call my sister.”
“Aunt Gloria? Why?”
“Because you’re going to stay with her for a while—until your mother decelerates from Earth orbit. Go upstairs and pack your clothes; you’re going to be at Gloria’s house for a couple of weeks.”
I didn’t hear his phone call, but fifteen minutes later Dad and I were in the car, with my bicycle in the back. Gloria’s little house was only a couple of miles away, so I wouldn’t have issues with getting to school.
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