Chapter 1: Teachers Pet

(M/f mas, teacher/student) (edited)

This is a cross-over story of one of Sandy’s friends.

15-year-old Jennie loved soccer. She was so glad to have made the team this year. She was a Sophomore in high school and had played since she was 12. Being five-two and ninety-five pounds, she was all muscle with no baby fat remaining. Her thighs and calves were well sculpted and long-legged. The school actually let the girls wear outer sports bras during practice with bare midriffs, so her abdomen showed off it rippled and tanned features. Her hips curved out from her flat belly, from her navel down to under the tight practice sports shorts she wore. Her face was perfectly balanced, with braces gone and teeth whitened. She glowed with youthful vitality as her hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She preferred to keep her sandy brown hair short with a streak of color in it; this time, it was pink.

There was another reason she liked soccer, particularly soccer practice, and that was Mr. Thomas, their coach. A year ago, when she first met him as she was trying to get on the team, she felt an immediate attraction to him. As a freshman then, she thought he was so much older, but now he seemed not much difference. She didn’t care that he was 32 years old, over double her age. Back last year, they only let the freshmen girls play soccer as an elective, not part of the primary high school team, mainly due to the age and size difference between them and the lead players who were all seniors. Their school was too small to support multiple girls’ teams.

This year though, she could actually try out and be in some of the games if the team leads (and the coaches) approved. Mr. Thomas and Ms. Grant were their lead coaches. Ms. Grant did most of the work with the girls, with Mr. Thomas assisting and filling in. He had duties with various boys’ teams as well and also did the classroom related training for the girls, thus kept quite busy during the season.

Jennie made sure she sat in the front row for his classes, though he never really showed her any favoritism over the other girls. She didn’t really mind, since she did not want to let on how she felt, particularly around the others. She attended any games that he was at, at least the ones her mom would let her attend.

Then one day...

It had rained the night before, and the practice field was still wet. During a play, she turned to kick the ball right as another girl slipped on the damp grass and accidentally collided with her. Jennie went down with a twist to her ankle. Mr. Thomas happened to be right there and went to help Jennie up. She was still sitting on the ground, hands and knees muddy.

“Jennie, are you alright? Let me check that ankle.”

His hands go to her ankle, feeling around it, moving it slowly, while watching her face.

“Does it hurt any as I do this?”

Jennie had drifted away from her immediate surroundings, focusing on his eyes.

“Oh, uh, no, no ... well, just a little.”

He offers his hand to her, “Here, let me help you up.”

She takes his hand with her muddy one, blushes at his touch and her dirty hand.

He smiles, “Don’t worry about the mud. That will clean. Put your arm over my shoulder, and let me help you to my office to check out that ankle.”

She obeys him completely, even though her ankle doesn’t feel that bad. They head back to his office.

“Sit here and let me examine your ankle for swelling. I’ll get a washcloth to help you clean up a bit.”

Back with the washcloth, he takes each of her hands one at a time and washes them off. She feels his strong fingers softly turning each hand in turn, wiping them. Her eyes watch every move he makes as her heart races. He then washes each knee, placing his hand under her calf, just below the knee, and wipes it clean. A part of her wishes he would reach up to her thigh. Her body quivers at his touch.

“If you don’t mind, I would really like to remove your shoe and sock to check that ankle closer.”

“I don’t mind” in a whisper, all she could respond with.

He picks up her hurt leg, unties her shoelace, and while holding her ankle still, removes her shoe. She blushes at the feelings she experiences. He looks up at her to see if she is going to take her calf-length sock off herself. Her hands stay gripped to the seat of the chair.

“May I?” He asks, his hand on her sock.

She nods her head, yes.

He reaches up to pull down the sock as she watches. He pulls it down slowly, gently, so as to not move her ankle unnecessarily. His head is just below hers. She leans down a little closer to the top of his head as he looks at her ankle. She smells his shampooed hair. Her body tingles at his touch and the intimate detail of removing her shoe and sock. He looks back up at her. She blushes again. He smiles a slight turn of his lips.

He moves her ankle gently while watching her face again for any signs of pain. Her eyes are transfixed, watching his hands on her foot. She only feels his touch as the rest of the world disappears.

“I don’t see much swelling, but it could come later. Does it hurt any as I move it?”

She wants to say something, something impressive to show that she likes him.

“No,” is all she can manage.

“I think you will be ok, but let me know if it starts to hurt or swell.”

“Ok,” She swallows.

As he lets go of her foot, his fingers slide across the bottom of her sole. She resists giggling at the tickle.

“Stand up and put your weight on it. How does it feel?”

He holds her hands as she stands to balance her. She takes a breath to fight from just falling into his arms.

“Good,” is all she can say.

“Here’s my number, text or call if you have any problems this evening, but I think you will be fine.”

She will not be fine. She wants to scream and shout. She takes her sock and shoe as he hands them to her. She leaves his office, her face flushed, and her body heated. She walks one shoe on, one shoe off to the locker room. Unknown to her, he watches her little bottom wiggle with each step before closing the door and turning away.

At home, she takes a shower, not trusting herself to take one at the school. She can’t help it. She turns up the cold water to try to cool herself down. She starts to calm until ... she touches herself. Her hand automatically slides over her silky mound and down between her legs. She can’t resist. She needs to release if she is going to be able to handle her home life this evening.

Her fingers slide over her silky pubes. Her stomach sucks in, and her back arches. She opens her legs wider for her hand, bracing herself with her other hand. She reaches over and turns up the hot water letting it run down her belly and between her legs. Her hand moves more, fingers slide into her cleft. Those fingers twirl a little dance over her clit and between her pussy lips. Eyes closed, she sees him removing first one shoe then the other. Sliding his hands up her calves and removing each sock, sliding it down over her foot. Touching her bare foot and gently stroking it.

Her hand speeds up. She starts panting. His face looks up at her. She bends over and, and ... their lips meet. He kisses her. Her heart skips a beat. She pushes her fingers into her, finding her favorite spot. His lips deeply kiss hers. He wraps her arms around her. She feels his warmth flood through her body.

She jerks hard, body spasming uncontrollably. Eyes go out of focus as her orgasm hits. She moans, trying to control herself. Her legs still weak as she calms and turns the water temperature cooler. She rewashes her face to regain her senses. She wants Mr. Thomas to make love to her.

That evening, she finally builds up the nerve to text him, ‘Just letting u know ankle fine.’

A couple minutes pass ... did he get it? Ding, ‘Good! Guess you will live.’

She wants to say she won’t unless it’s in his arms, ‘Yes.’

Another message: ‘Can you come by my office tomorrow, after school?’

Her heart skips a beat. She blushes. He wants to see me! There’s no practice tomorrow, so she usually wouldn’t see him until next week.

‘Yes’

‘Good! Now sweet dreams.’

Oh, God! He’s called me sweet! Well, my dreams to be sweet! He wants to SEE ME! She catches her breath, only now realizing she had been holding it. She wants to reply good night my love.

‘Good night. See u tmw!’

Jennie doesn’t sleep much that night as she goes over every detail of today and of what she will do tomorrow, of what could happen tomorrow.

The next morning, her mother has to push her as she’s late for school. She spent extra time with clothes and makeup and is too nervous to eat much. She’s wearing a dress today, rare for her, and a bit too short, so she has to keep pulling it down, especially while her mom is around.

At homeroom, she is already wishing the clock would go faster, staring at it every few minutes. Classes are a blur. Finally, the last bell and she is headed towards his office. She has to fight to keep from running. She gets to his office in record time. Ms. Grant is there with him. Jennie freezes. This isn’t what she expected. She takes a breath and pulls her dress down again. She knocks on his open door.

“Good, Jennie, you are here! We won’t hold you long. We just wanted to congratulate you. You have made the team for the next game.”

Ms. Grant pats her on the shoulder, “You have shown real talent and wish you good luck.”

“Uh, thank you, Ms. Grant,” she is stunned. Her plans are not as expected, but ... team! She made the team!

“Well, Mike, I’ll be off. You can fill in the details with Jennie.”

She now knows his first name. After all this time, she had always thought of him as Mr. Thomas. Now it’s Mike. Mike Thomas. Michael Thomas. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. Jennifer Thomas. Her mind was racing...

“Sure, Susan. Jennie, here sit down.” He offers a chair.

Ms. Grant. Susan ... is gone. Mike and Jennie are alone. She blushes as she sits. Her dress rides up halfway up her thigh. He glances.

“Now I’ll write out notes on your position and the game info if you need it. Also, we’ll get you a regular uniform. What’s your size? Oh, never mind, I think I can handle that!” as he looks her over again, smiling.

Taking a breath, trying to be calm, “I really appreciate this chance, Mr. Thomas.”

“Mike, you can call me Mike while we are informal.”

She blushes a little and looks down, “Mike.”

“Jennie, how is your ankle today. May I look at it again?”

She breathes out. Yes! Yes! Please! She wants to yell.

“Ah, sure. I didn’t have any problems last night.”

“Good, I just want to be sure my newest star is in good shape.”

He comes in front of her, lifts her foot. He slowly unbuckles and removes her sandal. Her dress slides up more as her leg is lifted. She doesn’t attempt to cover herself, leaving her hands holding the edge of the chair. He glances up at her, seeing a hint of panty. Her panties. She sees his eyes and blushes, placing her hands in her lap. He looks at her eyes and smiles. He knows that she has dressed up extra for him. It’s obvious she has a crush on him.

His mind races as he examines her ankle. He knows this exam is totally unnecessary, but he has become infatuated with her. Dangerous territory! What is she 15? 16? Jesus, why do you make such young girls so beautiful, so flawless?

He starts to lower her foot, again lightly touching the sole of her bare foot. He hears her take a breath. He looks at her face. She is staring right into his eyes, longing, wanting. He can smell her arousal. He would love to reach over and kiss her.

She wants him to kiss her. She wants to jump into his arms. She flushes with heat. Her little body squirms in the chair. She screams KISS ME, in her mind.

He puts her sandal back on her foot and stands up. She stands too quickly, overcorrects, and has to use him to catch her balance. He catches her hands in his. She wants to melt into an embrace.

He does. He embraces her in a hug, “I am glad that you made the team.”

He backs away from her, knowing this is going too fast, too dangerous. Her mind is frozen. He was hugging her. Her mouth opens slightly. Her face is flushed.

She whispers, “Thank you ... Mike,” as she is pulled from his arms. She doesn’t want it to end.

“Jennie, I would like ... can I text you?”

She looks into his eyes. YES! YES! YES! Her mind is yelling. But she can see the conflict he is under. She takes a breath to cool herself. She steps back a couple feet from him and changes her demeanor.

“Sure, Mr. Thomas,” explicitly switching back to more formal talk.

He smiles, realizing that she is able to control her emotions, probably better than him.

She says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

She installs an app, a private messaging app, and adds her id to it.

She looks up at him, handing him the phone.

“Use this. It’s more private.”

He is surprised, shocked even, but holds his surprise from her.

“Ok, sure,” he replies, not expecting her knowledge of something like this. Teens grow up fast these days.

“Send me a message to make sure I get it,” she orders. ‘Yes, ma’am!’ his mind says.

He sends something simple, ‘Hi.’

She replies with a heart. Her heart?

“Jennie, uh, I, uh, you shouldn’t text me unless I text you.”

She looks at his face. She knows that look. He has someone else ... She guesses; married. Then looks at his hand; ring. How did I miss that? She thinks. I don’t care.

She looks up at him without missing a beat, “I understand. This is just between you and me.”

She can’t help herself. She takes a step forward, leans placing a hand on his chest, and kisses him on the lips. A quick little peck. She backs away, turns and is gone. ‘Jesus, I am lost’, his mind cries. He sits down where she sat. Her perfume is still in the air.

Mike holds out from texting her for a full 5 hours. Sitting in his study, he pulls up that app.

He sends, ‘Hi Jennie.’

In seconds there is a reply, ‘Hi Mike.’

Jesus, I should say this is a mistake. Very sorry and delete the app, but no ... what to say?

She starts first, ‘I hope we can be friends.’

She has thought about this and decided its best that they start slow. Otherwise, she doesn’t think she could control herself. She also has guessed that Mike would get cold feet if things went too quickly. She decides to let him set the pace as much as she can.

He smiles, even breathes a sigh, ‘I would like that very much.’

Then he sends ‘tell me about yourself?’

‘Well, I like soccer.’

‘Silly girl! I knew that.’

‘My birthday is tmw. I’m 16.’

‘Oh my god, you should have said something earlier!’

‘I was shy. PS u can say OMG.’

‘OMG! You shy? Never!’

The ice was broken; the slippery slope was below them. They were sliding down it. That night Mike had to try to reaffirm his marriage. He approached his wife as she sat on the couch, watching TV. He moved her hair and kissed her neck then her earlobe. She tilted away saying that tickled. He came around and sat on the couch beside her, taking her hand and kissing it. She looked at him strangely.

“Mike, I’m trying to watch this.”

He didn’t give up that easily. He started to kiss her on the lips. Their relationship had cooled in recent months, he didn’t know why. Busy? She worked at an office and even had to make business trips quite often.

“Please, not tonight.”

He was silent. He didn’t know it yet, but she was having an affair with an old college boyfriend who had started working in the same office. He got up and left her watching TV.

‘r u still awake?’ he texted.

A few moments passed, ‘Yes, silly. For you always!’

Jesus.

‘I just didn’t get to wish u Happy BDay!’

‘You are so sweet! {hearts}.’

He found the emoji’s, ‘ {hearts}{roses}.’

She sent a picture. Just her face, eyes glowing, making a kissy face.

He didn’t know that photos could be sent. He saw her face. He wanted to kiss it.

‘Good night and have a good birthday.’

‘u better txt me tmw!!! {hearts}.’

His heart jumped. Ok, so much for slow ... he types, ‘ {cupids arrow heart}yes, my’

He stopped ... my. My what? Love? Sweetheart? Girl toy? Jesus.

‘my favorite soccer player,’ ... whew!

‘goof!’

After that exchange, Mike had to find some relief before he jumped into something he couldn’t jump out of. He went out to the garage, where he knew his wife wouldn’t bother him. He dropped his pants and pulled out his ... phone, bringing up her picture. Though it was just her face, it was incredible, sweet 16 now and utterly sexy. His cock came to attention without even touching it, just imagining the rest of her. Replaying that afternoon in his office, him lifting her leg, hand to dick, stroke, him seeing a peek of her white cotton panties with little, was that cherries? Strawberries? Hearts? Stroke, stroke. It didn’t matter, they were beautiful. He could see her thighs under her dress, stroke, stroke, stroke. He removed her sandal, her soft bare foot in his hands, stroke, stroke. He ran his fingers over the bottom of her foot, stroke, stroke. He watched her blush and smile, stroke. He looked into her eyes, stroke, stroke, oh, stroke.

In his mind’s eye, he played out the scene where she stood too quickly, fell into his arms and they kissed. “Oh, GODDD!” His hand moved faster up and down his cock. As he thought about her, looking at her picture, he imagined her touching his dick. He switched to just two fingers lightly stroking him, believing it was her little fingers. He saw her in her soccer practice outfit, bare midriff, incredibly sexy belly button, and his hand going down her shorts. “Fuck! AAAHHHH” he came so quick he barely was able to catch his cum in his hand. Some hit the floor with a splat. He jerked again. More cum squirted into his now full hand. He couldn’t move yet, supporting himself with his free hand on the side of his car. The car he was going to take her in. Make love to her. Have sex with her underage body. Jesus!

He wiped his hand on a rag, then wiped his dick, then the floor, and tossed it into the trash. Fuck! He wanted to text her right now, to tell her he needed to see her, to kiss her, to love her, to have her.

His breathing slowed. He picked up the phone, her picture still there, a sweet, innocent face. He couldn’t do this. She was his student, he was her teacher. She was just 16, he was 32. Jailbait, statutory rape, kicked out of teaching, coaching, ruined marriage, and sent to JAIL. Jesus why? She was at the perfect age, warm, cute, sexy, active, fertile. FUCK! Pregnancy, baby, ruin her life. This was Dangerous with a CAPITAL ‘D’!

But, he knew it was inevitable now. Like an airplane crash. Everything is fine then, BOOM, you hit the ground! He though his jerkoff would reduce the pressure and the desire. But, no such luck. His little man was overriding every other higher-level thought. Shit.

It kept telling him; it’s ok, she wants me, she won’t say anything, we won’t get caught, we will take precautions, and I will stick my dick into her amazingly sexy, amazingly tight little pussy. We will fuck like rabbits and then go to school like nothing has happened. I won’t go to jail ... SHIT!

Is it tomorrow yet? Can I text her? Call her? Oh, I need to learn how to send her a photo. I will be good; I’ll send her just my face, no shitty dick pics. Fuck, what if she WANTS a dick pic?

His phone dings. His eyes race to it, is it HER? She can’t WAIT? She wants me NOW?

He looks at the message, not the private app. It’s his wife, trying to find him. Breath! Ok, answer her.

BEACH GAMES

The next morning his mind wasn’t on the soccer match that was going on. Next week, she would be here on the team, but this week she wasn’t near him. He wanted to send her a birthday greeting message.

“Coach?” one of the girls called out.

He snapped back to the game, “Sorry, missed that.” He had to concentrate on the game.

As soon as the game ended (we lost), he gave a little encouragement speech and told them not to worry. He would help them improve strategy during next week’s practice. Practices where SHE would be there. He thanked them for their efforts, and they dispersed, a bit gloomy. His pep talk wasn’t really up to par either. As he watched the girls leave, a few looked very much like HER from behind. He watched their lithe bottoms as they wandered away to their parents, thinking he was watching HER. JESUS!

He sat in his car, unconsciously rubbing himself through his pants and thinking of what to say.

He had figured out how to send photos. He snapped several, trying to look something other than a lost puppy.

Well, the first part was easy, ‘Happy sweet 16!’ he sent.

He then sent the photo of just himself smiling. His first selfy.

‘sry busy, txt tn.’

He was a bit dejected at first and then realized she was probably at a party. Then a photo came. Her smile, hair done, makeup, tilt of head, animated flowers in her hair. Her smile, that smile, the one that melts hearts, his heart. He sat staring at it for what seemed like hours (just minutes).

At home, his wife was gone. A note said she had to go into work for a couple hours. He suspected otherwise. He didn’t care. He was in love. FUCK! In love? With a 16-year-old girl? With a beautiful, sexy, wonderful, vibrant, alive, teenage girl! He relieved his needs again, this time right out in the living room while sitting on the couch, still staring at her two photos.

Evening came, his wife finally returned and said she was tired after work and could he fix his own dinner. She wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t hungry for food either.

‘Hi’ dumb start...

‘Hi to u.’

He sent a short video loop of him blowing her a kiss. He had spent hours getting it just right.

She sent him one of her blowing a kiss back, obviously made in just the last few seconds. Hers was perfect. His looked stupid.

Small talk, ‘How was your bday party?’

‘Nice, but I missed you being there.’

‘Just nice?’ he tried to skip that ‘missed you’ part. The part that yelled ‘come hither, my lover... ‘

Picture of her looking sad, then ‘How was game?’

Game? Oh, yeah... ‘it was good. But we lost. You will help the team.’

She pushed him a tad bit, ‘Sry, I wish I had been there, with u.’

His will was failing, ‘I missed you being there’ {hearts}. ‘

So much for being demure with her.

She pushed more, ‘What would u have done?’

Jesus, girl, I would have hugged you, kissed you, and made love to you...

‘I would check that ankle {laugh face}.’

‘goof. I would like that vy much.’

This went on for a while; finally, she gave up trying to get him to go faster, at least for today.

‘I need to go,’ she said, then a photo of her sad face.

His heart went out to her in the photo, ‘Happy bday, my sweetheart {hearts, roses}.’

‘ty my darling.’

He thinks ... Oh God. ‘darling’ He is her darling, her lover. I am going to make love to this girl.

A few moments later, a full-length photo of her wearing a nightshirt that ended just below her crotch ... Her long legs exposed with bare feet, one foot on top of the other, bent over slightly. Her head was tilted sweetly, shyly smiling and there in the mirror behind her, that beautiful mirror; was the hint of her panty covered bottom, her thigh gap showing that beautiful creased cloth between young girl legs.

He had no choice, ‘sweet dreams. I love u.’

There, done, he said it; he was in love with her (or just lust?). He wanted to jump through that screen and hug her, kiss her ... He waited for a reply. None came. He didn’t care. Back to the garage with that photo, that wonderful photo. Jesus, she is sexting me!

Ding. Her! ‘I love u too, gn.’

Battle over, the war lost. He was hers, she was his. Plans ... Could he take her on a date? How? A motel? Yuck, too cliché. (Not to mention cameras! ‘Older white male taking underage female into motel room, emerging hours later. News at 11.’)

Sunday afternoon came. He had finished cutting the grass and taking a shower (cold!). He couldn’t resist her.

‘Hi’

Nothing. Did she have second thoughts? Had he moved to fast, especially with the L-word? It could scare girls, even if they wanted to hear it because it meant commitment.

He fretted for an eternity, nearly 15 minutes.

A photo, her. She was in a bikini at the beach. An incredibly revealing bikini; tiny patches over her perfect breasts, nipples denting the material. Nothing from there all the way down her flawless, muscular torso, below her navel, down so far that there could only have been an inch or two above her ... her pussy! Fuck! She must have shaved! Her mons was just barely covered, gaps on either side where her hip bone protruded. Only strings held the whole thing together.

He pinched the photo to zoom in to between her legs. There were her puffy pubes, one clearly visible from the angle of her leg.

‘Wow {bug eyes}’ he sent.

Then ‘your mom lets u wear that?’

She laughed at the text. ‘ she not here. By myself.’

Fuck! ‘where r u? I want to come.’

Fuck, he meant to come there. Not cum ... Both.

She paused. Thinking ... Was this dangerous for them? Would her friends see her?

‘meet me at... ‘ and she gave a different location. A beach that was a little farther away, less crowded, and not one that her friends would likely be at.

‘30 min {kisses}.’

He made an excuse to his wife. She hardly noticed. He was gone.

Mike walked out on the beach. He had his conservative trunks on, not some speedo that would scare even dogs away. He even remembered a towel. He looked around. Only a few people, good. Where was she?

Jennie was a little scared but far too excited to back out. She calmed herself as she sat in the car. She had seen him arrive at the small parking lot. He didn’t see her, and she didn’t want to jump right out. Her body tingled as he walked by, just yards away. He didn’t see her. She needed the time to cool herself.

But it didn’t work.

She started down the beach. He saw her. She thought it was cute; he looked like a deer in headlights. She had a light cover over her suit. She was too shy to just walk up to him otherwise. He tentatively waved at her. She started prancing up to him.

“Hi,” he said.

She blushed. He held out his hand, at first looking like he wanted to shake hers. She reached out. He took her hand, thumb in her palm, and fingers on top. Not a shake. He pulled her closer, stepping forward as he did. They embraced. She looked up at him. He kissed her. On the lips. She returned the kiss. Their real First Kiss. She burned it into her memory forever. They both blushed and smiled at each other’s unease. Oh young love, thy sting.

“I missed you. And Happy Birthday,” he blubbered.

“Silly, that was yesterday.”

They continued to hug. Good thing no one was close, as this looked a bit too long for a greeting of maybe father/daughter? She didn’t want the hug to end. But it did.

His eyes watched her face, “Sit,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir! Woof!”

“Silly girl, you are ... beautiful,” he could barely think of words.

He had to be sure she understood about the two of them.

They sat, and then as he held her hand, he whispered unnecessarily quietly about their budding relationship, the dangers to him, to her, the need for complete secrecy. He wanted to add that he wanted to make love to her, marry her, make babies with her...

She knew the drill. Even though this was all new to her, well not ALL new, just first time with an older man, not a silly teen boy (except for that wonderful time with Sandy and Randy, but that’s a different story). She replied she understood the seriousness of this. She looked around, no one near. She leaned over and kissed him. Then she leaned back and pulled off her covering. His eyes froze.

“Let’s go swimming!” she giggled lightheartedly, breaking the previous intensity.

He fainted, well his heart went double time, and breathing deepened. He had seen her in her sports outfit, but this was a whole other league. The photo didn’t do justice. Her body was perfection. Shaped in ways that should not be possible. She was the epitome of sex.

“Jesus, girl! You are beautiful ... and ah, naked!”

“Silly goof, this is perfectly fine beachwear.”

“For a nude beach, maybe,” He helped her up.

She saw his trunks tent. She laughed, then turned and danced away towards the water. Her butt cheeks hanging out and moving in ways that should not be legal for a 16-year-old girl. He followed her to the sea. She was splashing him as he came up to her. Waves broke around them. She grabbed onto him to keep from being washed away by the current. She kissed him, her tongue played with his lips. He lost all resistance. He would have had her right there if he could.