If you were to ask me who my favorite teacher was I’d have to say it was Mrs. Hargraves. That’s because she was the one who asked me to tutor Lori Hutchinson in Algebra.

I was a senior and a geek. I wasn’t a jock, nor was I popular. I wasn’t particularly good looking and I hadn’t dated more than once or twice my whole high school career.

That’s because those dates were nightmares. I didn’t know what to say, or where to go or what to do. One girl actually told me she was bored and wanted to go home.

So I hit the books instead and got straight A’s. Mrs. Hargraves used me in her class as a student aide, which was fine because that set me apart from the rest of the students. I got along fine with them in that role, but, leave the room or go to another class with them, and I was lost.

So one day Mrs. Hargraves said, “Mark, would you be interested in making a few bucks as a math tutor?” I said, “sure,” and the first student she set me up with was Lori.

I was immediately terrified.

Lori was a junior, and she was everything I was not. She was drop dead gorgeous, with honey blond hair she often wore in a pony tail. I fantasized about her breasts regularly, and dreamed about going to the pool and seeing her in a bikini. She had blue eyes and was popular with a capital P. Strangely, I usually saw her with a gaggle of other cute girls, and did not remember seeing her hanging onto a guy, like many of the other girls I also fantasized about. I found out why later.

Every guy in school was aiming for her, and I knew I was the last guy in school she would ever even look at.

Our first meeting was horrible. We met in the library after school one day. I was tongue tied, and couldn’t look at her without blushing and stammering. I had been thinking some pretty sexy things about her and I just knew that if I looked her in the eye she would know and be grossed out.

“So you’re going to teach me about Algebra?” she said in the most beautiful voice I had ever heard.

“Uhh, yeah,” I responded lamely.

“Well you have your work cut out for you, ‘cause I suck at math,” she said matter-of-factly.

I blushed. She said “suck” and I immediately thought of what kind of sucking I wished she would do to me.

“So ... when do we start?” she asked.

I snuck a glance. She was looking at me with a funny look on her face. I looked away immediately.

“Well ... Uh ... I need to ... ummm ... find out ... uh ... what you know.” Great! I sounded like some kind of dufus.

“Okay, shoot,” she said. She talked to me like I was a normal person. How could this be?

So I began asking her questions and giving her problems to do. I got interested immediately, because it soon became clear that she was smart, but had had poor instruction in the past. Or maybe she hadn’t paid attention or something. She knew about half of the things she needed to know to get anywhere. In the process of doing this I quit stuttering. Now we were on my turf, and I felt more confident when we were talking math.

Over the next month or so I met with her every other day. I began explaining to her what she had missed along the way, inserting formulae corrections into her work and teaching her things she had apparently never heard. I loved these sessions, because she had her attention on the paper in front of her, which allowed me to look at her.

And man did I look.

She was a knockout. She wore nice clothes all the time, and sometimes I swear she wasn’t wearing a bra. I saw points on the tips of her breasts and I made myself believe they were her nipples. I stared at her lips too. They were full and a little pouty most of the time. But when she “got it” she smiled and her whole face lit up. I spent major amounts of our time together with a rock hard dick, and couldn’t stand up to talk to her at all. So I sat across from her most of the time.

One Monday, after our session was done, Lori said, “Mark, I have a tennis lesson Wednesday. Could we meet a little later than usual?”

“Uh, sure ... I guess so.” I always stuttered when we weren’t talking about math. “But I ... um think the school will be ... um closed by then.”

“Oh,” she said brightly. “That’s okay, you can just come over to my house and we’ll do it there.”

She said, “Do it there,” and my prick sprang to attention. I flushed red. I also knew I’d have a new fantasy to beat off to that night.

“Um ... okay ... sure,” I managed to stammer out.

So the following Wednesday found me at her house. Her parents were rich. It was a nice house.

A maid let me in, for pity’s sake. I was taken to the back of the house where there was a private library. After I picked up my jaw off the floor I settled in, examining the books on the shelves, most of which were classics and which I had read. There was a rolltop desk along one wall, and a couch along another, with several chairs scattered around. I heard the door open and turned around.

Lori was wearing white, of course, a very short skirt with a loose top. She was a little damp with sweat and was breathing hard. Those breasts of hers were repeatedly poking out toward me as she tried to catch her breath.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffed. “Charles worked me hard and I wanted to get my net game up to par.”

I just stood there. She was so beautiful I just hurt all over. There was this long pause and I snuck a look at her. She was staring right at me, and she had that funny look on her face again - kind of a puzzled look.

She finally broke the silence. “Are you okay?”

“Uh ... sure ... ummm ... let’s get started.” I wanted to crawl in a crack and never come out.

“Well, there’s no table in here, but I can use the desk,” she chirped.

So there I was, standing behind her, leaning over her shoulder as she worked on the stuff we were covering, and her loose top was hanging open, and she was braless.

They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Her breasts were milky white, and at the tips there were light pink areolas. Her nipples were a little bit darker, and they stuck out about half an inch.

I stared and stared.

I have no idea what I was saying to her, but it must have made sense to her because she was working a problem and making corrections based on whatever I was saying. I must have been on autopilot, because I was not thinking about math.

I actually drooled on the desk. I realized it was going to happen, but couldn’t do anything about it.

So my spittle hit the desk, and she looked up.

It was obvious where I was looking, and that I had been looking for a while, and that I had drooled on the desk while looking there.

I was mortified. Her hand slapped up off the desk and pushed her shirt against her breasts.

I stumbled backward, and promptly tripped over the edge of a rug. As I fell backward I remembered seeing a chair back there somewhere, and then my head hit something really hard and everything went black.

Imagine this scene: This guy (creep?) who you just caught staring down your top has fallen down and cracked his head on a chair. He appears to be unconscious and is flat on his back. He’s as limp as a noodle. Well almost. There is one part of him that is not limp. It is making a tent in the front of his pants. A rather large tent, now that you think about it. But then you realize he could be really hurt, and you ignore the bulge and look to see if he’s bleeding on the rather expensive Persian carpet.

I found out later that’s sort of what happened, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I came to with a cold cloth across my eyes. It all came back in a rush. I willed myself to just die right then and there, but of course that didn’t work. Finally I lifted my head, but only a little, because I had what felt like the mother of all hangovers, and I hadn’t had a drop to drink.

“Ungggggg,” I moaned.

“Don’t move ... don’t get up yet,” came a female voice. The wet cloth was removed and I saw the maid who had let me in. Well, at least I didn’t have to face Lori.

“I think I’m okay,” I said. “My head’s a little sore, but I think I’m okay.” I just wanted to leave. And then maybe move to Montana.

“You just lie right there,” said the maid. “Miss Lori told me to keep you right here until she gets back.” I figured Lori had gone for a gun or something. I tried to get up, but the maid held me down.

“I have to get out of here,” I said a little hoarsely. “I have to go home.”

A new voice broke in ... the voice I loved, but really didn’t want to hear at this particular point in time. “You just lie right there, you silly,” said Lori. I looked up and saw her. She was even beautiful upside down. She knelt down and leaned over to start bandaging up my head.

“You cut your head when you fell,” she said as she wrapped gauze around my head.

I wasn’t listening, because she was still in that loose shirt and when she bent over I could see right up into it. I just stared. Maybe my eyes glazed over ... I don’t know. Anyway, pretty soon I looked at her face and she was watching my eyes. She knew I was looking again.

“You’re incorrigible, you know,” she said with a straight face.

“Oh gosh Lori ... I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... I mean I...” I just sort of trailed off to nothing.

She came around and sat me up. “Thank you Louise, that will be all for now,” Lori said to the maid. I was blushing again, and that made my head hurt. I put a hand up to touch the place I had banged up and kind of groaned. Lori leaned forward and grabbed my arm. She had a worried look on her face. “Mark, how do you feel? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No, I’m okay ... just ashamed is all ... but okay. I’d better leave,” I said.

“Don’t be silly,” said Lori, her face about eight inches from mine. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you didn’t really hurt yourself.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. “And I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” said Lori “You didn’t hurt the chair... Oh, I see, you mean you’re sorry for staring at my breasts.”

There it was. It was out. I was officially a pervert. My life was over. She’d tell the guys at school and, one by one, they’d make me pay.

“You are the silliest boy I think I’ve ever met,” she said. I stared up at her. “All the boys try to look at my breasts. Why would you be any different from them?”

I hadn’t thought of it quite that way. But I knew she was right - about all the boys trying I mean.

She went on. “Of course you are different in one way. You are the first boy who has ever seen my breasts bare.”

Sproing!

Yeah, just like that, my little buddy jumped right to attention. I tried to sit up, because I knew it was trying to poke a hole in the front of my pants. Her hand went to my chest to hold me down.

“You just lie there,” she warned me. Then she must have seen the tent that was now the front of my pants. “Oh ... I see.” Her face came back over mine, about 8 inches again. “Am I responsible for that?” Her eyes darted toward my crotch.

Now I have to tell you, shy or not, there comes a time when somebody asks you the stupidest question you ever heard, and you just can’t take it anymore.

In those situations you either laugh or hit somebody. I laughed. I laughed so hard my head hurt and I started crying. I was laughing and crying at the same time and holding my head and rolling around on the floor.

I thought I might actually die.

I felt her hands trying to grab my shoulders and she was saying something like, “Mark! What’s wrong? Mark, what can I do to help?” and the next thing I knew she was hugging me. Well hug is probably not the right word. The bard would say, “She clasped his head to her bosom”.

The important point here is that I found my face cradled right between those two fantastic breasts I had only recently been staring at. Her hand was caressing my hair and she was rocking back and forth. Now this had the effect of rubbing my face into her breasts. I felt those two hard nipples rubbing across my cheeks and I just melted. I burrowed my face into her breasts.

I think I went, “MMMMMMMmmmmmm.”

Lori stiffened and stopped. Then, after a minute, she continued to rock and I continued to, “MMMmmmmmmm.”

Maybe ten minutes went by and finally I pulled away from her. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“There you go again,” she said sharply. “Let me tell you something Mister. If I was mad at you, or I wanted an apology for something ... you’d know it.”

“Take it easy,” I said back. “I was just trying to be polite,” I went on. “And I took advantage of you and I just wanted to apologize.”

She stared at me. There was that funny look again. Then she said something I’ll always remember. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are the nicest guy I have ever met, and you can stare all you want.”

I had only thought I was stiff. Now I was rock hard.

She went on. “And you don’t have to apologize for that either.” She pointed a manicured finger at my straining bulge. “In fact, I take it as a compliment.”

I grinned weakly. “Maybe it was actually you who fell and hit your head.”

She laughed. “Mark, every guy I have ever been around has tried to get in my panties. They browbeat me, use guilt trips on me, try to get me drunk - anything. They try to take advantage of me. You never have. You have treated me with respect and that makes me feel all funny inside.”

And then she leaned over and kissed me. Those pouty soft lips closed over mine and she kissed me - hard. We broke apart to gasp for air.

Now she was blushing. “Oh my ... I liked that,” she panted. “I mean I really liked that.”

And then she kissed me again. This time she poked the tip of her tongue between my lips. Instinctively I tongued her back and we just melted into each other’s arms. Ten minutes later she pulled back.

“Mark ... you have to go.”

I nodded dumbly. “Okay.”

She laughed again. “No, really, you have to go, ‘cause I don’t think I can control myself very much longer if you stay here.”

I nodded dumbly again. “Okay.”

She pulled me up, laughing all the time, and pushed me through the house to the front door.

“I know our next ... session ... isn’t supposed to be until Friday. But I have to go out of town with my parents. So it will have to be Monday. Okay?” I didn’t say anything. “I mean we could meet tomorrow, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she said, still panting a little. “So Monday, okay? Here ... not at school.”

I was heavily into nodding dumbly that day. “Okay.”

I don’t remember going home. I don’t remember eating anything, or changing clothes or getting ready for bed. I do remember beating off that night. I shot at least four feet. Okay, okay, I know nobody can shoot four feet and live to tell about it, but it was one of the hardest orgasms of my short life. When I got up the next morning I thought it was all a dream.

The next day I saw Lori in the halls with that gaggle of girls she was always hanging around with.

“Hi Mark!” she called out. All the girls tittered. Several guys looked at me with very puzzled looks on their faces. I spent the rest of the day hard and whacked off as soon as I got home from school.

Friday night came, and instead of tutoring Lori I stayed home and read “The White Dragon” by Anne McCaffrey. I don’t know if it’s any good or not. The furthest I got was page six. I read pages one through five about 30 times before I gave up. It was the start of the longest weekend of my life.

I almost didn’t go to her house Monday. I figured I had already reached nirvana, and there was nowhere to go but down. I expected her to yell at me, or tell me to go away or something. But she didn’t.

Instead, she came to the door herself to let me in. No maid today. She said her parents were at some ski resort for a few days, “recuperating”. She was dressed in a halter top and loose shorts, and was barefoot. The halter top was loose too, and I knew if she bent over I’d be able to see most of those beautiful breasts. She took my hand and led me to the library. Her Algebra book was on the desk. She sat down as if nothing had happened and started to work. I noticed that, the way she had set things up, I had to look over her shoulder.

Somehow I found the strength to concentrate on math, and we made good progress. She was coming along nicely and soon would not need much tutoring. I told you she was smart. I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help it. Sure enough I got an eyeful. I couldn’t see as much as the last time, and only saw a nipple once, but she obviously knew I was looking and did nothing to stop me. I got hard again, of course.

Finally she turned in the chair, her face about a foot from my rock hard cock. She looked right at it.

“Aha!“ she yelled “I thought so!” She stood up and hugged me, grinding her body into mine. My arms went around her.

“Kiss me,” she demanded. I did and it was good. I could feel her breasts crushed against my chest. They felt good. I tried to keep my erection from touching her, figuring that would go too far and it would be all over. Imagine my surprise when I felt her hands on my butt, pulling my hips toward hers. She ground her pussy against my cock and went, “MMMmmmmm.”

I didn’t know what to do, so I just kissed her some more. After what seemed like a week or two, we broke apart.